


The Unveiling

by whichclothes



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-23
Updated: 2010-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichclothes/pseuds/whichclothes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[spike/xander/angel](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander/angel), [the unveiling](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/the%20unveiling)  
  
---|---  
  
_**The Unveiling (1 of 10)**_  
**Title:** The Unveiling    
**Chapter:** 1/10   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander/Angel   
**Rating:** NC-17    
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:**  Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.   
**AN:** The fic is complete and I'll post a chapter per day. Comments are cherished. The plot bunny was a gift from [](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/profile)[**acaranna**](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/)  and all the wonderful banners are by [](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/profile)[**blondebitz**](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/) !

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000awkyc/)  
---  
  
**The Unveiling**

 

**One**

 

With enormous effort, Xander managed not to whine. He kept his voice even and reasonable, like a grown-up. “I can’t. I’m out of the biz, remember? Just normal old boring carpenter guy now. Last big excitement I had was when I got a really good deal on Sheetrock.”

But Buffy sounded even and reasonable and grown up, too. And a little desperate. “Please, Xan? You don’t need to do much—just let him stay with you.”

“But I’ve done my time as roomie to vampires. Twice.”

She sighed. “I know. But he can’t stay here, Xan. All the Slayers really wig him out. I don’t think Watchers HQ is gonna be much better, and Willow’s coven said no way. He doesn’t have anyplace else to go.”

“I can’t stand the guy, remember?”

“He’s not…he’s not like he used to be.” Her voice was full of sorrow. “Please?”

Christ. Even across thousands of miles he couldn’t resist puppy dog eyes, not even when he couldn’t even see them. “Fine. Until you find someplace else, okay?”

She hissed out a long noise of relief. “Thanks, Xan. Really, thank you. You’re the best.”

“Yeah, that’s what all the girls say.”

She giggled politely. “’Kay. So he should be there in two or three days. And, uh…Spikeisgonnabewithhimtoo.”

“What?” Did she say something about Spike?

“Oops—gotta go! Dawn needs homework help. Bye!”

There was a tiny clicking noise and she was gone. He was left holding his phone and feeling like he’d just been doubly suckered.

 

***

 

He liked his work. It was satisfying to swing a hammer or wield a saw and to see the house he was building get a little bigger every day, a little closer to being finished. Sometimes as he put up the walls he’d imagine the family that might move into the house. Maybe this room would be for a son, he thought, with comic books under the bed and superhero action figures tumbling out of a toy box. Or maybe a girl would sleep here, one with books overflowing shelves and stacks of CDs falling over and a zoo of stuffed animals taking up her bed. It made him happy to think of them laughing and squabbling under the roof he’d raised. Calling the place he’d built home.

When he finished for the day, he’d stow his tools in his truck and, more often than not, visit a drive-through, and then head to his own place, which was just an apartment. It wasn’t a bad place, really. It was one third of a big old house that had been pretty grand, once upon a time. Sometimes he’d dream about the way he could restore the place if it belonged to him. For now, though, he just kept it from falling apart, and his landlord, Mrs. Donner, gave him a break on the rent.

Tonight was his favorite—Burgerville night. He was still sipping on his cherry chocolate shake when he arrived home. He tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and headed for his bedroom. He’d taken off his boots, socks, and shirt, and was about to unbutton his pants, when there was a loud knock on the door. Swearing slightly under his breath, he went to answer it.

Spike looked exactly as he always had. Xander knew that shouldn’t surprise him, but you’d think a couple of apocalypses would have _some_ effect on even a vampire. But no, there he was, atomic hair, black on black color scheme, sneer on his face. “Harris,” he said.

“Spike.” Xander said it in a neutral tone, but didn’t move from the doorway and didn’t invite Spike in.

Spike looked him up and down slowly, then grinned. “Knew you’d be happy to see me, whelp.”

“I’m not happy and I’m not a whelp. Now you want to explain why you’re here?”

Spike rolled his eyes and gestured toward the street, where a white van was parked. “Somebody had to play chauffeur, yeah? And I expect you’ll want a few tips on the care and feeding as well.”

Xander briefly considered just slamming the door shut. But then he pictured Buffy descending upon him in full Slayer fury and he relented. “Come on in, Spike,” he said.

But Spike shook his head. “Going to go fetch him first. You might want to step aside a bit. Don’t…don’t move too suddenly.”

This alarmed Xander. What would happen if he did move suddenly? Would Angel bite him? But he didn’t get a chance to ask, because Spike was already sauntering back down the sidewalk.

Xander never would have recognized the man that returned with Spike. He was rail-thin and shuffled up the sidewalk deeply stooped over. Spike had him by one arm and seemed to be dragging him toward the house. The straps of a big canvas bag were slung over Spike’s shoulder as well. When they got closer, Xander could see that Angel had filthy bare feet and wore a pair of baggy sweatpants and a ratty white t-shirt.  He kept his head bowed as they approached the door, and Spike paused impatiently on the threshold. As soon as Xander said, “Come in, Angel,” Spike hauled him inside. Angel looked at Xander and his eyes were wide like a frightened animal’s. Spike frowned and Xander took a few steps back.

“Where do you want him?” Spike asked, as if Angel was a piece of furniture he was delivering.

“Uh, in here.” Xander led the way to his spare bedroom. He hadn’t had any guests since he moved in, and he’d been using the room mostly to store a few empty boxes. When Buffy told him Angel was coming, Xander had moved the boxes out and bought another bed. He’d also covered the window with some heavy curtains and put a small dresser in the corner of the room. It wasn’t exactly homey, but then he never asked to run a vampire boarding house.

Spike pushed at Angel until the larger vampire was sitting on the bed. Only then did Xander realize that Angel’s hands were cuffed behind him. As Xander watched, Spike pulled two long chains from the canvas bag and affixed them to the bed posts. He gave them an experimental tug or two, then removed the cuffs from Angel’s wrists. He was almost tender about it, and when Angel moved his arms in front of himself Spike rubbed gently at each wrist before affixing the chains to them. Angel didn’t protest any of this treatment, but only sat there with his head bowed.

“Uh, Spike? What’s with the bondage? He’s not all Angelusish, is he?”

“He still has a soul. If you don’t mind him every minute, he’s likely to wander into the sun. Chains are to keep him safe when you can’t catch him.” Spike sounded weary. He kicked the bag into the corner and looked down at the bound vampire. “Long as you keep him locked up, he doesn’t need much. You’ll have to feed him. And if you want him clean you’ll have to do it yourself.”

Xander pictured himself bathing Angel and shuddered. “Spike, what the hell’s wrong with him?”

Spike gave Xander a long, unreadable look. “’M knackered. Been driving for ages. You have blood and whiskey?”

“Um, blood and beer.” Xander had stocked up on cow’s blood the day before.

Spike shrugged. “That’ll do.” Then he turned to Angel again. “Lie down, you old git.” He pushed at Angel until Angel was reclining on the bed with his head on the pillow. Again surprisingly gently, Spike tucked the covers around Angel’s body. Angel looked up at him and then over at Xander, his eyes still full of panic. “’S okay, Liam. I’ll be right in the next room. Sleep.” Like a small child, Angel closed his eyes and then curled into a ball under the blankets.

Spike and Xander went into the kitchen, where Xander pulled a plastic carton of blood and two bottles of Sam Adams out of the fridge. “You want this heated?” he asked, waving the carton around a little and feeling oddly domestic.

“Ta.”

Spike collapsed onto one of the chairs and Xander handed him a bottle, then poured some blood into a mug, which he nuked. When the microwave dinged, Xander joined Spike at the table.

“So? Spill.”

Spike swigged his blood first, made a face, and then swallowed some beer. He looked exhausted, Xander thought, more corpselike than usual. “What’d the Slayer tell you?”

“Not much. There was a fight of some kind and Angel was hurt.”

“Yeah, a fight of some kind. Was a bloody great battle, with hordes of demons and sodding dragons, whelp. And we won.” He took another drink of the beer. “Our friends all died. I got torn to bits and very nearly dusted. And Peaches got whacked with something, some kind of mojo, I expect. But we won. Not that it matters. Always more bloody lawyers where those came from.”

Xander didn’t quite understand this but decided that that didn’t matter just then. “So what’s wrong with Deadboy?”

“Don’t exactly know.” Spike sighed and tore at the label on his bottle. “He’s…it’s like he’s not in there, or at least not much. He doesn’t talk. He’s frightened of his own shadow. Can’t even care for himself. He seems to understand a few words, or maybe it’s just the tone of voice. I don’t know.”

“Fuck.”

“Pretty much.”

“Will he get better?”

Spike shook his head. “Dunno. Red and the Watcher tried, but all they did was make him cower in the corner and bloody cry. Cry! The Scourge of Europe, blubbering over a Watcher and a little redheaded witch.” Another long pull at his beer that emptied the bottle. “I nearly think it would be kinder just to stake him.”

Great. So Xander had again been volunteered to babysit a loco vamp, this time indefinitely. “He didn’t seem all that happy to see me.”

Spike’s laugh was harsh and humorless. “You two are best mates compared to how reacted to the Slayers. They itch, you know, like nettles on our skin, on our nerves. He was terrified of them.”

“Even Buffy?”

“Yeah.”

They lapsed into silence after that. Spike drained his mug and, with a look at Xander for permission, refilled it and heated it again. Xander finished off his beer, then stood and stretched.

“So I suppose you’re heading back to Cleveland now,” he said.

“No. All those Slayers get on my nerves as well.”

“But Buffy—“

“Doesn’t need me. Doesn’t want me.” Spike stared into his cup.

“Then why don’t you take care of Angel? He’s your family.”

“Can’t keep him safe, can I?”

It occurred then to Xander that making a living—unliving—as a souled vamp wasn’t an easy thing. Sure, the vamp could find someplace to crash, but how would he keep himself fed? Xander tried to picture Spike applying for a job somewhere. Nope, that wasn’t going to happen. “So where will you go?” Xander asked softly.

Spike didn’t look at him, but only shook his head a little.

Maybe it was the late hour, or the sheer ridiculousness of his situation. Whatever the reason, Xander found himself saying words he never thought he’d voluntarily utter. “Why don’t you crash here for a while?”

Spike’s head snapped up and he eyed Xander suspiciously. “Why? You can’t stand me.”

“I can stand Angel even less, and yet here I am. It’s no big deal, I guess. I can double the blood order. You can help watch Angel. We probably won’t even see each other much. I’ve been working some pretty long hours.”

Spike looked like he was considering the offer. Finally, he nodded. “All right. For now. ‘T’s better than that basement, anyhow.”

“And I won’t even tie you to a chair. You can have the couch.”

Xander set his empty bottle near the sink. Then he went to the closet in the bathroom and pulled out a blanket and pillow. He tossed them in Spike’s direction, mumbled goodnight, and stumbled off to his own room. Later, as he lay in bed, he wondered which was stranger: the fact that he now had two vampire roomies, or the fact that he actually felt a little happy not to be alone.

 

[Chapter Two](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/141087.html)

 


	2.  The Unveiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[spike/xander/angel](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander/angel), [the unveiling](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/the%20unveiling)  
  
---|---  
  
_**The Unveiling (2 of 10)**_  
**Title:** The Unveiling    
**Chapter:** 2/10   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander/Angel   
**Rating:** NC-17    
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:**  Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.   
**AN:** The fic is complete and I'll post a chapter per day. Comments are cherished. The plot bunny was a gift from [](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/profile)[**acaranna**](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/)  and all the wonderful banners are by [](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/profile)[**blondebitz**](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/) !  Thank you to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for her quick and helpful beta work, without which there would be many more errors in this fic.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000axdd5/)  
---  
  
**Two**

 

Morning came much, much too early. Xander considered murdering his alarm clock, but instead he switched it off and stumbled blearily into the bathroom. He managed to get through his morning ablutions without really waking up all the way, so he was slightly startled when he entered the living room and discovered someone asleep on the couch. Spike was wrapped tightly in the blanket like a vampire burrito, only a bit of tousled hair visible. He didn’t stir at all, which was probably just as well. Judging by the pile of clothing on the floor, he was completely naked. Xander peeked into the other bedroom, where Angel was still curled in a ball.

Angel opened his eyes and blinked fearfully at Xander, who sighed. “I’m going to work now, okay? I’ll be back tonight.”

Angel didn’t give any indication that he’d understood at all.

Xander stopped for a venti Americano on his way to the job site. Most of the guys were already there when he arrived. “Late night last night?” Ballard asked, winking and elbowing Xander in the ribs.

“Uh, yeah, I guess. A couple of old…friends came into town.”

“Oh.” Ballard seemed slightly disappointed. Maybe it was just because he had been married for ten years or so, but he seemed under the impression that Xander was living a life of wild bachelor abandon, and that Ballard could get vicarious thrills out of it. Xander had no idea why the guy was so delusional. In fact, Xander had had a grand total of three dates in the seven months he’d been in town. All three girls had been nice—not the least bit demony, as far as he could tell—but the evenings had been strained and awkward as they’d politely asked Xander questions about his past, and he’d scrambled to come up with something that didn’t sound too insane. And what else was there to talk about? The proposed new amendments to the building code and their likely impact on home construction? Each date had ended with a quick kiss. Xander hadn’t been stupid enough to try and call any of them for a second chance.

Now, of course, whatever slim romantic prospects he had had were pretty much gone. He could just imagine the conversation now, “Oh, sure, honey, we can go back to my place. Don’t mind the addled vampire in chains. Or the smart-ass demon who’s about ten times sexier than me.”

It was a little drizzly that day, but Xander didn’t mind. It often was, and being slightly damp beat sizzling in the sun or freezing your ass off. Besides, the roof was almost framed.

When the day was over, Xander was not particularly anxious to get home. He didn’t know what he’d be going home to, and he wasn’t looking forward to another episode of supernatural soap opera. He’d had such a normal life, these past few months. But he couldn’t stay away forever. So he made a McDonalds run and then made his way home.

To an apartment that was surprisingly quiet. Spike was on the couch again, but he was sitting up and fully dressed, and he was watching something on HBO. He glanced up at Xander as he entered, tipped his beer bottle slightly, and then turned back to the TV.

“How’s Angel?” Xander asked.

“See for yourself.”

Angel was sitting in bed. He had his knees drawn up to his chest with his arms wrapped around his shins. His hair was sticking up all over as if he hadn’t combed it in weeks, and that alone told Xander how serious the situation was.

“Uh, Angel?” Xander said softly.

Angel’s glance skittered to Xander’s face and then away.

“Do you remember me? I’m Xander.” He pointed at himself, and feeling completely ridiculous, repeated it. “Xander.”

Brown eyes darted towards him again, then quickly down, but Xander thought maybe he’d caught a flash of…something there. Maybe.

“So this is my place and you’re gonna stay here a while, I guess. I won’t…I won’t hurt you, okay? I practically never stake my houseguests.” He still felt stupid, but he was trying to keep his voice soothing, and it seemed to him that Angel relaxed just a tiny bit.

Xander stood there a few more minutes, trying to see whether there was anything familiar about this creature chained to his guest bed, but Angel just looked scared and vulnerable and miserable. Well, the miserable part wasn’t so new, at least, although this was a distant cousin to the usual brooding. “Okay. I’ll be right out here if you need me.”

When Angel still didn’t react, Xander wandered into the kitchen and grabbed a beer. “Oi! Fetch me one as well,” Spike called. Xander sighed but decided it wasn’t worth arguing over, and he took a second bottle out of the fridge. He brought them into the living room and collapsed onto the opposite end of the couch from Spike. He handed one bottle over to Spike and took a long swig of his own.

“So you’re a regular wage-earner now,” Spike said after a while.

“That’s me. I’m bringing home the bacon guy.”

“No demon hunting?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Spike cocked his head and stared at Xander. “Why’d you resign? Tired of being a Scooby?”

“I can’t fight worth shit with one eye.”

Spike snorted. “Couldn’t fight worth shit with two of ‘em.”

Xander was too tired to feel resentful. “Well, now I’m even worse. And I never was much of a researcher, so I’m not gonna grow up to be Giles. But I am good at building stuff. So here I am. You know, if I hadn’t been born on the Hellmouth, I would’ve been just an ordinary guy, with two eyes and a normal job and a wife and kids and a mortgage and football on Sundays.”

“Don’t think you’d ever have been ordinary, ducks.”

Xander had no idea what to make of that, so he ignored it and decided to change the subject instead. “So you fed Angel, right?”

“Yeah. Won’t let him starve.”

“And you’re just going to leave him tied to the bed all the time?”

“What’d you want me to do with him? Take him dancing?”

“You could bring him out here for a while. We could both keep an eye on him, I guess.”

Spike took a long chug. “Thought you’d want him tucked away. You two didn’t much get on.”

“Yeah. Neither did we, remember? But if he’s gonna be here, he might as well join us.”

Spike nodded and put down the bottle. He stood and stretched, revealing a stripe of white skin over the waistband of his jeans, and then ambled away. Xander watched soccer on TV until he heard the soft clink of chains, and there was Spike slowly leading Angel into the room the way you’d drag a leery dog to the vet’s. But Angel didn’t object as Spike got him to sit in the middle of the couch.

The three of them sat like that for a long time, none of them saying anything. Xander looked over at Angel now and then, and sometimes he’d meet Spike’s eyes as the blond vampire did the same. Angel seemed to be engrossed in the television, watching the game and the commercials with equal interest. But at least he wasn’t cowering, and that was something.

Eventually Xander yawned. “And this is one of the weirdest evenings I’ve ever had,” he announced. Spike chuckled. “But some of us are not creatures of the night. And some of us have to work in the morning. I’m gonna turn in.” He stood. Spike waved at him slightly and even Angel gave him a slightly longer glance.

Xander showered. As he lay in bed, he could hear the quiet sounds of the tv, and it was nice. He fell asleep smiling.

 

***

 

He woke up and almost screamed.

Someone was in bed with him. Someone blond and dead and smirking. “You snore like an asthmatic bulldog,” Spike said.

“My bed! I can snore however much I want to in my bed!” Xander realized he was clutching the covers to his chest like a blushing virgin. “And why are you here?”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Your virtue is safe, Harris.”

Xander was not mollified, especially when Spike shifted a little and so did the blankets, and Xander got a glimpse of way too much bare demon skin. Xander may have squeaked a little. “What the hell are you doing in my bed?”

Spike sat up and ran a hand through his hair. Xander tried to avert his eyes from Spike’s pale, muscular chest, from his pinkish nipples, which were standing up in little peaks. “Your sofa is bloody uncomfortable. ‘T’s more torture than even a vamp can take.” He patted the mattress between them, which made Xander jump a little. “This is much better.”

“If you want a bed, go sleep with Angel.”

Spike shook his head. “That bed’s too small. Yours is plenty big. Were you planning an orgy, pet?”

“I like to…stretch out,” Xander said a little defensively.

“Well, you still can, most of the time. Our sleeping time only overlaps for a few hours, yeah?”

Spike was giving him a look like all this was perfectly reasonable, and like Xander would be a totally petty clod for objecting any longer. Xander rubbed his eye. “You better not hog the blankets,” he mumbled, and Spike smiled at him triumphantly.

Feeling like an idiot for about the tenth time in two days, Xander got out of bed. He ignored the way Spike leered at his morning glory and he made his way to the bathroom with as much dignity as he could muster. At least until Spike called out, “Nice wood there, carpenter,” and cackled into Xander’s pillow.

Xander checked in on Angel again before he left. And this time, for just a second, he was almost certain that the corner of Angel’s mouth twitched upward in a tiny little grin. Xander found himself smiling back.

 

***

 

Xander was in a good mood when he got home that night. Work had gone especially well, and his boss had stopped by and complimented him on the job. And it was Friday, so Xander could finally catch up on the sleep he’d been missing since his guests arrived. Instead of burgers, Xander went to Outback and got a steak and Bloomin’ Onion to go. Spike was again sitting on the couch when Xander arrived home, this time with Angel next to him, and when Xander presented him with the onion, Spike crowed with glee. “Brilliant! Haven’t had one in ages.” He was already licking at his fingers in a way that might or might not have been intended as lascivious.

“Well, just brush your fangs before you get into bed tonight,” Xander said, shoving a forkful of ribeye in his mouth.

Spike waggled his eyebrows and offered a piece to Angel, who stared at it blankly until Spike shrugged and ate it himself.

After the food was gone they watched _Aliens_ and Xander got fairly buzzed on beer and Angel actually seemed to relax a little on the couch between them. When Sigourney Weaver escaped, there was a brief tussle over the remote control, which Xander actually managed to somehow win. Spike pouted until Xander discovered that _Nosferatu_ was on, and then Xander and Spike reenacted some of the scenes with Xander as Count Orlock and Spike as, variously, Thomas and Ellen, until Xander was snorting Sam Adams out his nose, he was laughing so hard, and Spike collapsed on the floor, and even Angel had the shadow of a smile.

It was a good evening. Probably, Xander had to admit, the best he’d had in a long while. But eventually the alcohol and the day’s work caught up with him and he waved good night to the vampires and ambled off to bed.

A pair of icy cold feet pressed against his calves woke him abruptly. “Jesus Christ, Spike!”

Spike blinked at him, the picture of faux innocence. “But you’re so bloody warm.”

“And I’d like to stay that way, thanks very much,” Xander said, tugging the blankets away from Spike.

Spike leered. “I know how you could warm us both up, love.”

It was mostly the lingering effects of the Sam Adams, combined with the remaining fog of sleep and generous sprinkles of irritation and sexual frustration, that made Xander do something very stupid. He decided to call Spike’s bluff. “Oh yeah?” Xander said. He flopped himself over until he was mostly on top of Spike. A very naked Spike, Xander couldn’t help but notice.

Spike froze, a look of comical surprise on his face. And then, just when Xander was beginning to wonder whether he’d rather have his throat torn out on the left side or on the right, Spike threaded his fingers into the hair at the back of Xander’s head and brought their mouths together in a teeth-clacking kiss.

_Upping the ante_, Xander thought, and _He’s used my cinnamon toothpaste_. What he didn’t think was, _Eww, I’m kissing Spike_, because actually it was a very nice kiss. Not a polite little peck on the cheek like he’d had from his last three dates, not the desperate, clingy smooches that Anya had been prone to. This kiss was vigorous and a little clumsy, and it sent a line of sparkles right down his spine and to his cock. Xander would have been embarrassed about the hard-on that resulted, except he could feel Spike’s as well, digging into Xander’s thigh.

Eventually Xander had to breathe and he pulled his head away. There was just enough light in the room for him to make out the expression on Spike’s face, and Xander wondered whether he himself looked quite so shocked and…debauched. They blinked at one another for several minutes and then, as if by mutual agreement, they brought their faces together for another kiss, this one hungrier than before but no less pleasant.

Spike’s hands moved away from Xander’s head and made their way south, the strong fingertips digging into Xander’s shoulders and back. They were as cold as Spike’s feet, but Xander didn’t mind because suddenly he felt red-hot, as if he were a burning coal. He could almost hear the sizzle when Spike’s palms settled on his ass.

A distant corner of his brain informed him that he should be freaking out right now, with vampire hands on his butt—_male_ vampire hands on his butt—but he silently told that corner of his brain to take a hike. He shifted over a bit so that now their bodies were lined up almost perfectly, their cocks tight together in a way that made them both moan.

Spike’s muscles were hard and strong beneath him, the sounds he made were hoarse and guttural, and he was so undeniably male, but Xander found himself liking that much more than he’d ever have imagined. He liked it even better when Spike snaked one hand between them and wrapped it around both of their cocks, which were now slightly damp from pre-come.

 After that there was a whole bunch of thrusting and gasping and squeezing and groaning, and Xander pretty much lost track of everything except how goddamn good it all felt. They continued to press their mouths against one another, lips to necks and jaws and lips, so Spike’s cry was muffled, but Xander could feel the vampire shudder underneath him when he came, and Spike’s sticky spend smeared against Xander’s belly, providing just enough extra lubrication to send Xander over the edge as well, breathlessly cursing into Spike’s shoulder.

When Xander regained enough energy to move again, he peeled himself away and flopped onto his back. He could hear Spike panting beside him, and the idea that he’d done that to a creature who didn’t even need oxygen made his dick twitch. He was considering whether to do anything about it, and wondering about vampire recovery times, when he fell fast asleep.

[Chapter Three ](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/142205.html)


	3.  The Unveiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[spike/xander/angel](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander/angel), [the unveiling](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/the%20unveiling)  
  
---|---  
  
_**The Unveiling (3 of 10)**_  
**Title:** The Unveiling    
**Chapter:** 3/10   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander/Angel   
**Rating:** NC-17    
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:**  Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.   
**AN:** The fic is complete and I'll post a chapter per day. Comments are cherished. The plot bunny was a gift from [](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/profile)[**acaranna**](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/)  and all the wonderful banners are by [](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/profile)[**blondebitz**](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/) !  Thank you to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for her quick and helpful beta work, without which there would be many more errors in this fic.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000ayk82/)  
---  
  
**Three**

 

The morning was awkward. Spike pretended to be asleep as Xander got up and padded to the bathroom, but Xander wasn’t fooled. He winced slightly at the flaking mess on his stomach and in his pubic hair, and took a quick shower. A quick, cold shower, because his body was remembering the night before with more enthusiasm than was his brain. He dressed hurriedly in a pair of khakis and an orange sweater, wondering unhappily how Spike was going to react. Would he pretend it hadn’t happened? Would he make fun of Xander?

But he couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever. He emerged at last, only to be pinned in place by a pair of sharp blue eyes. For an eternity or two, they simply stared at one another. It was Spike who finally sighed and said, “Look, whelp. About last night—“

But Xander couldn’t bear to hear rejection now, he just couldn’t. So he interrupted. “Hey, I know. It’s been a good long time since I got any and I’m sure it has for you, too. It was just a…a proximity thing. A thing we never have to speak of again.”

He almost imagined he saw a flash of disappointment across Spike’s mobile features, a slight slumping of his shoulders. But then Spike nodded. “Right. Been ages since I had a leg over.” And he rolled over and, presumably, went back to sleep.

Xander went to check on Angel. Angel was sitting up in bed, his arms again wrapped around his legs, and he looked at Xander with wide eyes. It occurred to Xander that he must have heard the previous night’s romp; there was only one thin wall between the two bedrooms and it wouldn’t have taken vamp senses to figure out what was going on. Xander felt himself blush. “Um, I’m going out for a while. Do you need anything?”

He hadn’t expected Angel to answer, so he wasn’t surprised at all when the big vampire just looked at him silently.

“Okay. Spike’s, uh, he’s here if you need something.”

Again no answer, and Xander was halfway out into the hall before a thought occurred to him. He ducked back into his own bedroom, ignoring the way Spike ignored him, and unplugged his clock radio from the wall. He brought it back into the spare bedroom and Angel watched impassively as Xander set it on the dresser and plugged it in. Xander fiddled with the dial for a moment until he found something reasonable—a classic rock station. “I don’t know what you like,” he said. “So feel free to change it.” Hell, maybe Angel was an NPR fan, for all he knew. But in any case, the radio might make his day a little less boring, a little more bearable.

Angel cocked his head and listened to The Eagles play “Hotel California.”

Xander found his shoes and wallet and left the house.

 

***

 

Saturdays were usually Xander’s days to putter around the house, fixing whatever was in most dire need of repair. Afterwards, he’d run errands—grocery shopping, getting the oil changed in the truck, things like that—and then head to a brewpub for a pint or two, maybe a friendly conversation with someone about a basketball game or the mayor’s latest antics. Today he felt restless, though, and in any case the weather was fine, with a robin’s-egg sky studded with a few puffy white clouds. So Xander left the truck where it was and walked. He made his way the few blocks toward Hawthorne, where he found a mocha with his name on it, and he ambled slowly down the sidewalk, stopping now and then to pat a friendly dog or read a flyer stapled to a pole. Before he knew it he was at the river, so he crossed the bridge and then headed north, where the scents of fried pastry and grilled meats called to him from the Saturday Market.

He kept his mind as blank as possible, willing away all demon-related thoughts. Instead he watched the tourists and the hippies, and he admired the way the sun sparkled off the buildings and the way the traffic hummed across the bridge over his head. He saw a homeless guy in an enormous gray coat feeding breadcrumbs to the pigeons, and a cop on horseback having an animated but happy conversation with a tall punk chick who had a tattoo of a rose on the back of her shaved head. Three small children chased each other around the cobblestones, oblivious to the adults who had to weave to avoid them.

Still absently rubbing cinnamon sugar from his fingers, Xander meandered downtown. There was something going on in Pioneer Square, with crowds milling around and loud music. Xander had another coffee and listened to a band play something jazzy. He lost track of time. He did not think about gay sex, not even when a pair of really hot guys sat at the table next to him and held hands and rated all the passing men just loudly enough for Xander to hear, and then winked at Xander when they caught him looking.

Only when it was nearly dusk did Xander walk home. When he got there, he found Spike on the couch again. Spike grunted at Xander without looking away from the TV. Angel smiled at him, though, a real smile that made it seem that he was happy to see Xander, and Xander couldn’t help but smile back.

Xander made himself a sandwich and ate it leaning against the kitchen counter. He washed it down with milk, pure, wholesome milk. The beer had done enough damage already.

When he went back into the living room, Spike stood. “’Bout time, whelp.” He grabbed his duster from off a chair and shrugged it on. “I’m going,” he announced.

Xander felt a horrible pang in his chest. “Where…where are you going?” His attempt at nonchalance was pathetic. Christ—wasn’t he supposed to be relieved that the bleached menace was leaving?

“Dunno. Must be some place in this bloody town where a bloke can have a good brawl.”

The tightness around Xander’s lungs loosened a little. “Oh. You’re not leaving leaving, then.”

Spike’s jaw tightened. “Right. I reckon you can manage the old man, then. I’ll be out of your hair.”

He cast a brief, anguished glance at Angel, who looked terrified, and then stalked toward the door. But before he reached it, Xander shrugged off his paralysis and grabbed Spike’s arm.

“Wait! I didn’t mean…. Stay, Spike. Please stay, okay?”

Spike tilted his head and gave Xander an unreadable look. “I didn’t scare you away?”

“You’ve scared me plenty of times, Spike. But lately, not so much. I just….” Fuck. He wasn’t any good at this at all. “Last night was kinda unexpected. I’ve never done that before. I mean, sex with demons, yeah. But they were all girls. Or at least girl-like. But it was nice. Definitely not scary. But don’t worry, I have no plans to molest you or anything.”

Spike blinked at him a moment and then barked out an incredulous laugh. “Molest me?”

Xander shuffled his feet. “Yeah. I know you were just kidding around with all the innuendo and stuff, just, um, pissing at me.”

“Taking the piss,” Spike corrected.

“Whatever. Yanking my chain.” Xander gulped at little at his unfortunate choice of metaphor. “I was just sort of teasing back, right? But then you kissed me and it kind of wasn’t awful. It was pretty much the opposite of awful, actually. And I got, er, carried away, and I guess you got sort of caught up in the spirit of things, and, uh….” His voice trailed off and he stared hard at the floor.

“You trying to say you don’t regret what we did, Xander?”

Xander. Spike had never called him that before, at least not like that. Xander looked up at Spike’s face, which suddenly seemed oddly vulnerable. “No,” Xander said very quietly. “I don’t regret it.”

He had the strangest sense that Spike was going to cry. But that was crazy, wasn’t it?

Spike took a very deep breath and let it out. “Right, then. I expect we’ve aired our feelings enough for one night. Next thing we’ll turn into a pair of giggling schoolgirls. I’m going to find something to kill. I’ll be back before dawn.” The last sentence was said softly, just before Spike opened the door.

Angel still looked alarmed, so Xander sat close to him on the couch and told him in a soothing voice that Spike would return. Angel responded by giving him a lost puppy look and then scooting close against him, clearly seeking the comfort of someone a little familiar. Xander flung his arm around those wide shoulders and wondered how he’d managed to once again find himself living in the Twilight Zone.

It was surprisingly comfortable, lounging on the couch like this. Angel didn’t complain about Xander’s choices in TV shows or try to hog the popcorn. When Xander brought him a warmed mug of blood, he drank it obediently, clutching the cup with two hands so that he looked absurdly like an overgrown toddler with a sippy cup. But with such nearness, Xander couldn’t help but notice something else: Angel smelled. Vampires might not be so much with the sweating and other bodily fluids, but it had clearly been a considerable time since Angel had bathed. His clothes were filthy, his skin was streaked with grime, and his hair was a matted mess.

With a deep sigh of resignation, Xander clicked off the television and turned to face Angel. “Hey, big guy. Because my life just has to get even weirder, how about a bath?”

The guest bathroom had an enormous claw-foot tub that was probably original to the house. Xander had been intending to restore it, but he hardly ever took baths and he never had guests, so that job was pretty far down on his to-do list. So the tub was kind of ugly but it held water just fine. Xander turned the tap all the way to “H,” remembering the way Spike used to empty the water heater when he took a shower the previous times they’d been roomies.

Xander had had to pull Angel into the bathroom by the hand, and now the vampire just stood watching the water swirl with the same expression he had when he watched TV. “You have to take your clothes off,” Xander explained, miming undressing, but Angel only looked lost. Muttering to himself, Xander tugged at Angel’s t-shirt. Angel didn’t exactly participate in getting the thing off, but he didn’t stop Xander from doing it for him. It was as if he had no clue how to undress, and, judging by the state of the rags he was wearing, it had been a very long time since he changed clothing.

Angel’s ribs protruded and his belly was concave. Xander made a mental note to ask Spike how much blood a vampire was supposed to consume, because clearly Angel hadn’t been drinking enough.

When Angel continued to just stand there, Xander had to push the sweatpants over his jutting hips and down to his ankles, and then there was an awkward dance as he tried to get them off Angel’s feet without sending Angel crashing to the floor. Angel clearly wasn’t embarrassed by his nudity, but he looked pale and ill, like someone with a terminal disease.

Xander helped him into the tub. Angel gasped a bit when his skin hit the hot water, but then he allowed himself to submerge nearly to his chin and he tilted his head back against the edge of the tub and closed his eyes. For the first time since he’d arrived, he looked comfortable and content.

If Angel couldn’t manage undressing, he clearly wasn’t up to bathing himself either. So Xander grabbed a washcloth and a bar of soap and started to scrub. He noted to himself that this was the second time in twenty-four hours that he was doing something unlikely and involving a naked vampire. But Angel just seemed to enjoy the touch, leaning slightly into the cloth, and Xander found himself working slowly and meditatively, humming Johhny Cash songs quietly as he worked. Angel grew gradually cleaner.

Only when Xander got to Angel’s crotch did he pause. But Angel didn’t react any differently than he had to the rest of the bath, and his thick cock stayed soft as Xander gingerly soaped the length of it and ran the cloth around Angel’s balls and between his slightly spread legs. If the vampire noticed the way Xander’s face once again turned bright red, he didn’t remark on it in any way.

Eventually all of Angel was clean except his hair. The water was gray and growing cold by then, so Xander pulled the plug and watched the water and soap scum swirl away. He turned the tap on again, and, with a little urging, managed to get Angel’s head under it long enough to wet his hair. Angel seemed to especially enjoy being shampooed—he made a few tiny moans of pleasure as Xander massaged his scalp—and it occurred to Xander that it had probably been a long time since anyone had touched Angel like that. Then they rinsed, and Angel was looking at Xander expectantly, like he was wondering what amazing thing Xander might come up with next.

What Xander came up with was a quick rub-down with a fluffy towel, and then a clean pair of navy blue sweats and a fresh gray tee. The clothes were Xander’s own, since as far as he could tell Angel had only what he’d been wearing.

“How about a nightcap?” Xander asked. Angel trailed behind Xander into the kitchen, and then slurped up the mug of blood Xander had heated for him while Xander downed another glass of milk.

“Okay. I know it’s early by vamp standards, but I’m still human and it’s past my bedtime.” Xander felt kind of stupid talking to someone who didn’t react, but he didn’t want to treat Angel like simply a piece of furniture to be moved from one place to another. In any case, Angel followed him to the spare bedroom. Then it occurred to Xander that it didn’t make any sense to put a sparkly clean demon between grungy sheets, so, as Angel watched with mild interest, he stripped the bed and then made it up again with his last set of clean linens. Finally he tucked Angel in. Angel held his hands up to be cuffed, and the fact that he showed any initiative at all made Xander slightly relieved at the same time it broke his heart a little. “’Night, big guy,” he said, and Angel gave him a sweet smile.

Xander’s bed smelled like sex and Spike and sex with Spike. Which wasn’t actually a bad thing, Xander discovered, and when he couldn’t sleep he ended up taking his dick in his hand and lazily stroking himself to a climax like a long, warm wave. He fell asleep at last with images of vampires dancing in his head.

Spike woke him up with cold feet again, but this time Xander didn’t complain. Spike’s gelled hair was a mess and one eye was swollen nearly shut. “Nice night?” Xander asked.

The corner of Spike’s mouth twitched. “Beat a few demons. Not much worth killing around here. I see you washed the pouf.”

“He was stinky. Spike, is he eating enough?”

“He is now. At first he wouldn’t feed at all unless I forced him. Never thought I’d have to pour blood down the berk’s throat like that.” He sighed. “Unlife is full of surprises.”

Xander couldn’t agree more.

 

[Chapter 4](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/142555.html)

 

 


	4.  The Unveiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[spike/xander/angel](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander/angel), [the unveiling](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/the%20unveiling)  
  
---|---  
  
_**The Unveiling (4 of 10)**_  
**Title:** The Unveiling    
**Chapter:** 4/10   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander/Angel   
**Rating:** NC-17    
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:**  Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.   
**AN:** The fic is complete and I'll post a chapter per day. Comments are cherished. The plot bunny was a gift from [](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/profile)[**acaranna**](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/)  and all the wonderful banners are by [](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/profile)[**blondebitz**](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/) !  Thank you to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for her quick and helpful beta work, without which there would be many more errors in this fic.

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=The%20Unveiling&filter=all).

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000azxke/)  
---  
  
**Four**

 

“No! No no no no!”

The anguished wailing had Xander out of bed and tottering on his feet before his eyes were opened or his brain engaged. His heart was already pounding like a snare drum as he fumbled for the light.

Spike was huddled in a ball in the center of the bed, very much in the same position Xander had been taught to assume back in grade school during earthquake drills. There was no earthquake, though, just a cowering vampire. A second vampire stood at the bedside making awful little whimpering noises and staring at Xander, clearly in the expectation that Xander ought to be doing something about the situation.

So Xander sat clumsily on the bed and, after some hesitation, patted Spike’s trembling shoulder. “Spike? Are you okay?” Spike didn’t respond, so Xander shook him gently. “Spike?”

Then Spike did slowly uncurl himself. He blinked up at Xander with teary eyes. “X-Xander?” he asked weakly.

“Are you all right? What’s the matter?”

Spike looked around the room slowly. Then he sat up and shook his head as if to clear it, before taking a deep breath and visibly attempting to draw on his usual mask of bravado. “’M fine. Just a dream, innit?”

“Not a very good one, I take it.”

Spike snarled half-heartedly. “It was all rainbows and kittens, whelp. Sorry I disturbed your beauty sleep.”

“You disturbed his, too.” Xander gestured toward Angel, who was still standing there, looking profoundly distressed. Only then did Xander notice that Angel had chains trailing from his wrists, and blood was trickling down his wrists and onto the floor.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Spike said. He leapt to his feet and moved toward Angel, who flinched away. Spike grabbed his arm anyway and started to drag him away.

“Wait!” Xander said. “No blood on my clean sheets. Hang on.”

Spike allowed him to take Angel’s arm away. Xander steered Angel to the chair and pushed him gently onto it. Then he ducked into his bathroom and came back with a damp cloth and bandages. “Can you get the goddamn cuffs off him?” he asked.

Spike stomped out of the room and came back a moment later with a key, which he used to unlock the manacles. Xander dabbed at the bloody welts and then wrapped them loosely in gauze. Spike just watched, scowling. “They’ll mend on their own, you know. Not like he’ll get an infection.”

“Maybe not, but right now they probably hurt.”

“I’ve seen him take a sword through his stomach. I’ve caused him to have hot pokers in his body. A bit of bruising isn’t going to dust him.”

“No, but a bit of bandaging isn’t gonna hurt.”

“He’s a demon, Xander. Remember?”

“And I promised to take care of him, Spike. Remember?”

Spike growled and kicked at the bed.

Xander took the remaining first aid materials back into the bathroom, then returned to see Spike glaring at Angel while Angel hung his head like a chastised child. Angel was still wearing Xander’s clothing and Spike and Xander were still naked, and the whole thing was so beyond ridiculous that Xander lost his temper. He stomped his way over to Spike. “He hurt himself because he was worried about your goddamn nightmare, you prick. Why are you being so fucking _mean_ to him? You couldn’t even clean him up a little. Hasn’t he suffered enough already?”

“Suffered enough?” Spike’s eyes sparked amber. “Don’t you recall what he’s done to people? Thousands murdered. Children raped before their dying parents’ eyes. He almost ended the bloody world!”

“And suddenly you’re the one to judge him? Look, I’d have been happy to throw the first stake plenty of times, but not now. He’s broken, Spike!”

“And I saw him bloody break, didn’t I?” Spike shouted. “Saw and couldn’t stop it. He’s my sodding sire and I’m not meant to be his bleeding carer!”

Spike’s voice broke and he turned away.

Xander slowly unclenched the hands that were fisted at his sides. He glanced at Angel, who was hiding his face behind his arms and rocking his torso back and forth. And in an unusual moment of insight he realized that Spike really did care for Angel, and that Spike was very nearly as broken as the older vampire.

Xander put out his hand and let it fall on Spike’s shoulder. Spike tried to shrug it away, but Xander wouldn’t let him. “I’m sorry,” Xander said very softly.

When Spike didn’t respond, Xander moved a half-step closer, and this time he tugged at Spike until Spike was facing him, and then Xander enfolded the fierce body in his arms. Spike remained stiff for just a moment, and then he melted, plastering himself against Xander and hiding his face in the crook of Xander’s neck, holding on to Xander like a drowning man.

They stood like that a very long time.

The funny thing was that Xander became aware at some point that he was crying, too, his one eye all bleary with tears and his nose clogged with snot, and he couldn’t have said what—or whom—the sobs were for, exactly. Lost friends and lost love, perhaps. Lost innocence. Lost dreams.

He and Spike finally separated. They were both too embarrassed to make eye contact, but then somehow Xander found himself tucking Spike into bed. And, because the night just had to get a little more surreal, he was tucking Angel in as well, so that the big vampire was taking up the middle of the bed, and Xander was crawling in beside him. He pulled the covers up over all three of them and was profoundly grateful he’d opted for the king size bed.

 

***

 

Xander usually slept in on Sundays. He didn’t usually do it with a pair of demons, but he was a flexible guy. Besides, it wasn’t like he was going to move anywhere anytime soon, considering that Angel was half on top of him and sound asleep.

“Heavy, ain’t he?” Spike said quietly. “Like a bloody pile of rocks.”

“Yeah.”

“And you realize that now that he’s discovered how toasty the bed is with you in it, he’s not going to return willingly to his own?”

Xander tried to muster up some indignation but didn’t have the energy. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “At least he doesn’t have to be chained up.”

Xander dozed for several minutes after that, until Spike reached over and tapped his head. “Xander? Why are you taking all this so calmly? Reckoned you’d have conniptioned yourself to death by now.”

Xander snorted softly. “Over which part? Being gayed up? Playing house with one PTSD demon and one who’s completely off the deep end? The all-male slumber party? Hey, all in a day’s work for the Xan-man.”

“And here I thought you just hammered nails.”

“I have many talents.”

“Yeah? You could show me some if you weren’t being squashed by fourteen stone of dead man.”

Xander laughed hard enough at that that the dead man stirred and blinked sleepily at them both, no doubt rummaging in the ruins of his mind for an explanation of how he’d ended up stretched across two naked men.

“Morning, Angel,” Xander said, although he was pretty sure it was closer to afternoon. Angel put his head down again—right over Xander’s heart—and sighed happily.

“Spike?” Xander said after a long time had passed.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think there’s some sort of cure for him?”

“Dunno. He’s loads better now than he was with the Slayers or the Watchers.”

“Really?” Xander didn’t want to think about how Angel’s condition could have been worse than it was now.

But Spike nodded. “He’d just curl up in the corner and shake and make this bloody horrible sound. If you hadn’t been willing to take him in I would have staked him.”

“Jesus, Spike!”

“It would have been a mercy killing, Xander. Like putting down a crippled horse. Angel would never want that kind of existence.”

“And now?”

Spike smiled slightly. “He seems content enough now, doesn’t he?”

Xander couldn’t quite stifle a groan. “Great. So as long as I run the vamp nursing home, he gets to live. Way to pile on the guilt-trip, bleach boy.”

Spike cocked an eyebrow at him. “You don’t look so miserable yourself, boy.”

Later that afternoon, while the vampires still napped and Xander did laundry and then lazily scraped old paint off the frame of the building’s front door, Xander pondered over what Spike had said. All expectations to the contrary, he really wasn’t miserable with his new roomies. And it wasn’t just because he’d had that nice shared orgasm and there was definite potential for more in the future. It was the companionship, he supposed. He’d been lonely forever, it felt like. And the way Angel relied on him, seemed to genuinely like him, well, that was nice, too. He hadn’t often been in a position like that.

By the time he was painting the door—a nice, cheery yellow—Spike had crawled out of bed and got dressed, and he leaned against the wall and watched Xander. “Where’s Angel?” Xander asked.

“Listening to that radio you gave him. He still likes awful shite. Wish he’d forgotten that as well.” Spike was playing with his lighter, flicking it on and off, but he wasn’t actually smoking. In fact, as far as Xander could tell, he hadn’t had a cigarette since he’d arrived in town. Xander wondered why, but didn’t ask. “The radio was a good idea. It calms him,” Spike said.

“Just call me Xander Harris, vamp whisperer.”

“You’re the only one he hasn’t been terrified of since he…since the battle.” Spike was looking intently at the flame.

“Why? I mean, I can understand the Slayers giving him the heebie-jeebies, but why should I be anything special?”

“You know those people animals are attracted to? Nobody knows why, but as soon as they sit down, the cat’s in their lap and the Pekinese is humping their leg, yeah? You’re like that, only for demons.”

Xander scraped the paintbrush on the inside of the can, pressed on the lid, and sighed. “Demon magnet. But why?”

“Dunno. Pheromones, perhaps.” Spike sniffed. “You smell nice.”

“And that is in no way disturbing to know.” Xander squinted at Spike. “Is that why…with the sexy and the gratuitous nudity?”

Spike shrugged.

“But you never tried that before, and I’ve been a demon magnet for years.”

“Did try, once or twice, a bit. I expect you didn’t notice. We were both…distracted with other things, yeah?”

“And now, not so much,” Xander agreed.

Xander went to re-enter the apartment, but Spike stepped in to block his way, then moved close so their chests were almost touching. He dabbed a spot of paint off Xander’s cheek and swiped it onto Xander’s t-shirt, right over Xander’s left nipple. “Could use a bit of distraction now,” he purred.

The more southerly parts of Xander liked that idea very much. “But Angel—“

“Told you. They’re doing a James Taylor retrospective. He’ll be occupied for ages.”

Xander practically tiptoed inside. He rinsed the brush in the sink and stowed the paint in the closet where he kept the various pieces of his projects-in-progress. Then he peeked in on Angel, who was lying on the bed in the guest room, nodding his head along with the music. He suddenly knew exactly how parents of toddlers must feel when the parents try to get busy with their significant others.

Spike was waiting for him in his own bed, completely bare and spread out on the bed like an offering. Spike’s hands were laced together under his head and his cock was already hard.

“Uh, okay,” Xander said, closing the door behind himself. His throat was very dry. Then he just stood there.

“Well, move along,” Spike said. “You’re not getting any younger, you know.” And to think, Xander had assumed he’d never meet anyone more direct about these things than Anya.

Even though Spike had already seen him in the altogether more than once, Xander couldn’t help but blush under the vampire’s steady gaze. But he drew his t-shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. His paint-spattered jeans soon followed, and his white socks and his boring gray briefs, and Spike was doing that thing with his tongue behind his teeth.

Xander continued to stand there, feeling stupid, not sure how to proceed. So Spike apparently decided to move things along—he grabbed his own dick and, never once allowing his gaze to leave Xander’s face, began to jack himself in a leisurely way. And then Xander noticed the bottle of lube that was lying on the bed beside Spike—the little bottle of K-Y that Xander kept in his bedside drawer for his dates with Rosy Palm—and his previously dry throat became as desiccated as Inca Mummy Girl’s. “Spike,” he croaked.

But Spike only kept on stroking and his smile became wider, like a crocodile’s. “’T’s more fun if you join in, whelp. I can see you want to.” He used his free hand to gesture at Xander’s cock, which was having none of Xander’s misgivings.

“I am not a whelp,” Xander protested weakly. “But I’ve never, uh…I don’t know how….”

Spike sighed theatrically. “Just wanking, innit? Surely you know how to do that? Only it’s someone else’s tackle you’re handling.”

Well, that seemed reasonable enough. Xander settled himself on the bed beside Spike, feeling like he was some sort of sacrifice as well. But then Spike rolled on his side and wrapped a surprisingly not cold hand around Xander’s cock, and that felt so nice that Xander reciprocated. It was very strange to be touching a penis that wasn’t his own. Spike’s was longer than his and more slender, and unlike him, Spike had a foreskin, which felt exotic to Xander’s fingers. “See? Knew you could manage,” Spike said, and leaned over for a kiss. He had very soft lips, Xander noted. Did vampires need ChapStick?

That question was forgotten, though, as Spike scooted a little and bent his upper leg, placing his foot on the bed. He gently moved Xander’s hand down a little, first so that Xander was cupping Spike’s balls, and then so that Xander’s fingers were pressed to the tender skin behind them.

Xander pulled his head back in surprise. “Does that mean—Are you gonna let me….”

Spike looked amused. “Don’t have to if you don’t fancy it, love.”

 “No, I definitely want….” Xander decided that action was better than speaking right then, so he leaned back in for another kiss, at the same time allowing himself to explore Spike’s most intimate places. When Xander’s fingertip brushed against the puckered little hole, Spike’s muscles tightened, and at first Xander thought he’d done something wrong. But then Spike pushed himself against Xander’s finger, impaling himself slightly, and devoured Xander’s mouth even more eagerly.

Just when Xander was getting used to it, though, Spike twisted away slightly. He was only grabbing the bottle, though, and he uncapped it and poured some over Xander’s fingers before replacing the cap and tossing the bottle away. “Don’t have to be too gentle, now,” he said against Xander’s neck. “Demon, yeah?” To underscore his point, he again tried to skewer himself on Xander’s slippery fingers.

Xander became a little bolder with his exploration, fully inserting first one finger and then two. Spike wiggled enthusiastically and gnawed at Xander’s shoulder. He also sped up the movements of his fist around Xander’s cock, which Xander took for encouragement. 

Several minutes of kissing and poking and groping later—and Spike was really very good at what he was doing, Xander noticed; over a hundred years of experience must be a good thing—Spike pulled away from him with a gasp. In one smooth movement, Spike rolled onto his back, tugging Xander along with him. Spike raised his knees and spread them, proving himself very flexible. When the vestiges of Xander’s rational brain realized what was about to happen and froze his body, Spike rolled his eyes and tugged at Xander’s cock. “Not the time for shyness now, boy.”

“Pushy bottom,” Xander mumbled, but then he was thrusting inside Spike and he couldn’t say anything at all, at least nothing intelligible. He tried to go slow, but Spike practically growled at him and wiggled his ass.

Being inside Spike felt like nothing he’d experienced before. Tighter. Cooler. And there was Spike writhing and panting beneath him, his beautiful face drawn in concentration. Xander became aware that everything was probably going to be over for him very soon, so he stilled.

“What?” Spike asked.

“Just…just a sec.”

“Bit late for second thoughts.”

“No second thinking here. I’m only a little bit too excited.”

Spike looked smug. “You should be. Don’t let just anyone shag me, you know.” He buried his fingers in Xander’s hair and pulled his head down for another searing kiss. Soon Xander couldn’t not move anymore and he rocked his hips, dragging himself in and out of Spike with as much exquisite slowness as he could manage. “God, like that,” Spike said, and Xander agreed.

Xander was right. It didn’t take very long. But just before he lost control entirely, he must have angled himself just right, because Spike swore and somehow managed to nearly arch himself off the bed, Xander and all, and the muscles around Xander’s cock clenched him tightly, and they both came at nearly the same time.

Eventually, Spike straightened his legs out and planted a little kiss on the lid above Xander’s vacant eye. “Brilliant, love,” he said, his voice raspy. Then he made a disappointed little noise as Xander pulled himself free and rolled off to Spike’s side.

“Ouch,” Xander said, removing the plastic bottle out from under his hip and tossing it onto the floor.

“Break something, pet?”

“Mmph,” Xander replied. He considered for a moment before deciding that he didn’t care whether cuddling was girly, and he pulled Spike against himself so that they were spooned together. Xander licked and lightly gnawed at the vulnerable flesh on the nape of Spike’s neck. He was too spent to try for another round, but still he liked the way Spike felt against him, firm ass snug against Xander’s groin, his gelled hair tickling Xander’s nose.

They’d both nearly dozed off when the door opened. Angel looked so forlorn that Xander and Spike only exchanged a quick glance before gesturing him toward the bed. He pushed his way between them and then made a happy little noise when they wrapped their arms around him.

Xander wondered for a moment at the fact that naptime had now become a group activity, but he didn’t really mind. It was comfortable, really, and he liked listening to the vampires’ soft breaths. He was pretty sure they didn’t actually need to breathe, but maybe it was habit, or maybe they liked the sound of it, too. Maybe he’d ask Spike. Later. Now he was drifting pleasantly away.

Only to be unpleasantly awakened when Angel suddenly yelled and sat up, looking frightened.

Groaning in unison, Spike and Xander sat up, too. “What is it?” Spike said.

Angel buried his face in his hands. “Buffy,” he said.

And, as Spike and Xander gaped at each other in shock, Xander’s phone began to ring.

[Chapter Five](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/142715.html) 


	5.  The Unveiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[spike/xander/angel](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander/angel), [the unveiling](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/the%20unveiling)  
  
---|---  
  
_ **The Unveiling (5 of 10)** _

**Title:** The Unveiling    
**Chapter:** 5/10   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander/Angel   
**Rating:** NC-17    
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:**  Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.   
**AN:** The fic is complete and I'll post a chapter per day. Comments are cherished. The plot bunny was a gift from [](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/profile)[**acaranna**](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/)  and all the wonderful banners are by [](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/profile)[**blondebitz**](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/) !  Thank you to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for her quick and helpful beta work, without which there would be many more errors in this fic.

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=The%20Unveiling&filter=all).

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000b07gw/)

**Five**

 

Somehow, it wasn’t a surprise at all to discover that it was Buffy on the other end of the phone. As soon as she said “Hey, Xan,” Angel made a pained sound and burrowed himself up against Spike’s chest. Xander was still so taken aback that he missed whatever she said next, until she said “Xander? Are you there?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. Just a sec.” He put his hand over the receiver and looked at Spike. “I’m gonna take this in the other room, all right?”

Spike nodded. He looked shaken. Paler than usual, if that was possible. “Yeah. I’ll sort things here.”

Still naked, Xander took the phone and padded into the living room. He lay down on the couch and covered his eye with one hand. “Hi, Buff,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine. Did they get there?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“And how’s he doing?”

“He’s…I don’t know. He’s not wigging out, at least. But you’re right—he’s sure not the demon we knew.”

From nearly three thousand miles away, her sigh sounded like a ghost’s lament. “He doesn’t deserve this.”

“No, he really doesn’t.” It was true. He may have been a vicious monster and a brooding bastard, but nobody should have to lose himself the way Angel had.

“Have you guys been getting along?” Buffy sounded slightly hesitant, as if she couldn’t quite believe they hadn’t killed one another yet. “You and Spike, I mean.”

Xander looked down at himself. His dick was still slightly sticky from lube, and Spike’s semen was dried on Xander’s stomach. “Yeah. We’re tolerating each other.”

“Good. I’m kinda worried about Spike, actually. That battle thing, and what happened to Angel—Spike was pretty shook up. I know he’s all souled up and everything, but I don’t know what he’s gonna do with himself now.”

“I’ve asked him to stay here, Buff.”

There was a brief pause. “Really? Why?”

“’Cause I could use some help with the vamp-sitting. And I kinda like the company.”

“_Spike_’s company?”

Xander wasn’t by any means ready to announce that he and Spike were…whatever it was they were. Hell, Xander was still trying to wrap his own mind around it. But it didn’t seem right to fuck a guy and then dis him right after. And he didn’t especially want to lie anyway. “Yeah, Buff. Spike’s company. He’s…he’s nice to have around.”

“Huh,” she said. “Never thought I’d hear you of all people say that.”

“Things change. People change. Even vampires change.”

Another long, haunted sigh. “Why does life have to be so complicated? Well, as long as everything’s okay with you.”

They chatted for a few minutes after that, mostly about Dawn and the boy she was dating, who Buffy was convinced was too old for her. Xander refrained from pointing out the age difference between Buffy and her first boyfriend.

After he hung up, Xander walked back into his bedroom. Angel was still in Spike’s arms and Spike was rubbing soothingly at Angel’s back, but at least they both seemed calm. Spike was looking at Xander with strangely bright eyes. “What you said to the Slayer, was that true?”

Oh. Vamp hearing. “Which part?”

“The bit about having me here.”

It was odd to know that a century-plus old demon could be as insecure as Xander himself. “Of course it’s true. I do like having you around, Spike. And not just for the sex, although that’s a nice side benefit.”

Spike blinked at him for a moment and then looked away. “Ta,” he said very quietly.

After an awkward moment or two, they both cleared their throats. “Um, what’s up with Angel?” Xander asked.

Spike shook his head. “Dunno. That’s the first time he’s spoken since that bloody alley.”

“He knew that was Buffy on the phone. Is that some kind of vamp supersense thing?”

“No. We’re just like the rest of you—don’t know who’s rung us until we answer.”

Xander worried at his lip and then reached a decision. “I’m gonna call Giles.”

 

***

 

Xander had sort of forgotten about time differences and it was oh-shit-hundred in England, and Giles was not especially thrilled to be awakened. He grumbled and bitched sleepily for several minutes, but finally he listened to Xander’s tale. Xander’s slightly edited tale—he didn’t exactly let on that they were all piled in bed together when Angel did his psychic thing.

“And you’re quite certain he knew who it was before you answered?”

“He said her name, Giles.”

“Yes, but perhaps that was just coincidence.”

“He said her name completely out of the blue and then sort of freaked, and he hasn’t said a single other word since LA. And this was the first time she’s called since he’s arrived. Pretty big coincidence there, chief.”

“Yes. Quite.” He sighed. “I’ll look into this matter. And you’re all right there with the two of them in the meantime?”

“Peachy keen, G-Man.”

“We do have the facilities here to, erm, secure Angel if need be….”

Xander shuddered a little, thinking of Angel locked up in some cell, losing his last few marbles while Watchers studied him like some exotic bug. “No, he’s fine here. We’re cool.”

“All right, then. I’ll ring you if I learn anything.”

“Thanks, Giles.” 

Spike had dragged Angel off Xander’s bed and into the kitchen, where they were sitting at the table and drinking blood. While Xander had thrown on some jeans and a tee, Spike hadn’t bothered to get dressed yet, which was a little distracting. Angel didn’t seem to notice, though.

“Your Watcher have any ideas?”

“Not yet. But he’s gonna research it. He does that. Researches stuff.”

“Bloody Watchers. They want everything interesting to be stuffed in museums, cataloged in books.”

“Maybe. But it does come in handy now and then. Saved my ass a time or three.”

Spike made a sour face and Angel gazed blankly into his mug.

“You know what?” Xander said loudly. “I could use some fresh air. Anyone want to join me for a walk?”

Spike’s eyebrows went up. “You want to perambulate in the park, boy?”

“I just need a change of scenery, okay? You can go park your butt in front of the TV again if you want.”

“What about him?” Spike stabbed a finger in Angel’s direction.

“Maybe he could use some fresh air, too.”

“What if he panics?”

“We’re not real likely to run into any Slayers or anything. He should be fine. But, uh, some clothes on you would be of the good.”

Spike looked down at himself like he’d forgotten he was nude. “Yeah, all right.”

Angel didn’t have any shoes, and Xander’s wouldn’t fit him, so he went barefoot. At first he didn’t want to leave at all, and it occurred to Xander that he might think he was leaving for good. So Spike and Xander each took one of his arms and kind of dragged him down the sidewalk, and after they passed Spike’s van he relaxed a tiny bit.

It was chilly out, but of course the vampires were fine and Xander was wearing a jacket. They kept to side streets, where the front gardens were just beginning their spring exuberance. They didn’t see anyone else except a guy on a bicycle who sped by with barely a glance at them and a cat that hissed and ran away.

“How’d you end up here anyhow?”

“You don’t approve of the neighborhood?”

“Nah, it’s nice. Just wondering why here.”

“Why not? I wanted to get out of Cali. My old boss came up here when he left Sunnyhell and went into business with his brother. He offered me a job and I thought, why not? Pay’s good. It’s a little damp up here but way less demony. Present company excepted, of course.”

“And why’d you throw in the white hat?”

“Told you. Tired. The missing eye is a bitch in a fight. I wanted…I wanted a normal life.”

Spike snorted. “So now you’re shagging a vamp and nursing another. That’s not normal, pet.”

“Well, maybe normality is overrated.”

“I always thought so.”

Angel had stopped dragging his dirty feet by then and was looking around with some interest, even pausing now and then to stare at a parked car or a rosebush that looked, as far as Xander could tell, completely unremarkable. It was the perkiest Xander had seen him, and Xander concluded that the walk had been a good idea.

“Don’t you miss the others?” Spike asked as Angel poked his finger at the flaking paint on a stair railing.

“Yeah. But we were growing apart anyway. You told us that yourself, back in your Big Bad days, remember?”

Spike looked slightly abashed. Slightly.

They wandered for an hour or so, and by the time they got back to Xander’s place Xander felt like he’d shaken off his restlessness. “I’m gonna turn in,” he announced. “Some of us have to get up early to bring home the bacon. And the A positive.”

“We have dosh, you know. Can pay our own way.”

“Oh?”

“The old man had piles stashed away for ages, and he squirreled more away while he was playing CEO. He still owns property in LA, and other places as well, I expect. Not that he can tell us anything about them now.”

That made sense, Xander thought. Angel had had the Crawford Street place and the fancy clothes, and he certainly hadn’t been slinging burgers at Doublemeat Palace. “Well, keep your cash for now. Like I said before, my paycheck’s not bad, and you guys aren’t exactly eating me out of house and home.”

“More to spend on whiskey, then. If you’re going to turn in I’ll head out for a while.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

Xander felt like a dork for saying it—he was neither Spike’s parent nor his spouse. Predictably, Spike snorted and rolled his eyes. But Xander thought he also saw a momentary softening in the vampire’s expression, a bit of pleased surprise, maybe.

After Spike left, Xander took Angel into the bathroom and helped him rinse his feet. He wasn’t surprised at all when Angel ended up climbing into Xander’s bed with him and scrunching his bony body up against Xander’s, then sighing in contentment. “If you get cured and you remember this, you’re gonna be so embarrassed,” Xander said.

Angel looked at him seriously. “Foot.”

“Okay, non sequitur guy.”

“Foot,” Angel insisted. Then he put his head down so his ear was directly over Xander’s heart and went to sleep.

 

***

 

Spike stumbled into bed just before Xander got out of it. He was freshly showered, which made Xander wonder what he’d had to clean off himself. Angel just grunted softly and scooted over so he was pinning Spike in place instead. “Your turn to be teddy bear,” Xander said, and wandered off to get ready for work.

Ballard leered at Xander as they lay shingles. “Busy weekend, dude?”

“Actually, yeah, it kinda was.”

“Who is she? That Jessica from the office? She’s had her eye on you for months.”

“Nope. Not her.”

“I tell you, I’d like to get more than my eye on her.”

“Yeah, she’s cute. But it wasn’t her.”

“So who, then?” Ballard stood up to get some more nails.

Xander smiled evilly. “His name is Spike.”

Ballard goggled, slipped, yelled, and fell.

Xander descended from the roof as quickly as he could, to find the rest of the crew already clustered around Ballard, who was sitting in the mud, holding his foot and howling.

Xander ended up driving Ballard to the hospital. The man was too busy moaning to speak. The doctor said his ankle was broken, and that it was a lucky thing Ballard had been wearing a hardhat and that he’d landed on soft ground. He gave Ballard a shot of something that made Ballard stop whining and start giggling, and put a cast on him.

Ballard’s wife met them there. She fussed over her husband and then drew Xander aside with a worried look. “How long is he going to be out of work?”

“Doctor says six to eight weeks. But don’t worry about it—he’ll collect worker’s comp, and Needham will make sure he doesn’t lose any pay over this.”

She smiled at him in relief and ushered Ballard out the door. As they went, Xander heard Ballard—still high as a kite—loudly informing his wife that, “Xander Harris is fucking some guy named Spike!” It didn’t sound as weird to Xander’s ears as he might have expected.

Only as he was driving home did Xander remember the seemingly random word that Angel had said to him the night before.

 

[Chapter Six](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/143145.html)

 


	6.  The Unveiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:**|   
[spike/xander/angel](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander/angel), [the unveiling](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/the%20unveiling)  
  
---|---  
  
_**The Unveiling (6 of 10)**_

**Title:** The Unveiling    
**Chapter:** 6/10   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander/Angel   
**Rating:** NC-17    
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:**  Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.   
**AN:** The fic is complete and I'll post a chapter per day. Comments are cherished. The plot bunny was a gift from [](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/profile)[**acaranna**](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/)  and all the wonderful banners are by [](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/profile)[**blondebitz**](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/) !  Thank you to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for her quick and helpful beta work, without which there would be many more errors in this fic.

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=The%20Unveiling&filter=all).

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000b19rd/)

**Six**

 

“I don’t suppose you want to tell me next week’s Megabucks winning numbers.”

Angel, of course, did not answer. He was in Xander’s bed again, only this time Xander was the filling in the vampire sandwich as Angel and Spike huddled on either side of him. Spike and Xander were naked and sweaty. They’d distracted Angel with _American Idol_ just long enough to have another round of mind-blowing sex—Spike had decided to prove he could give a blow job as well as, if not better than a thousand-year-old former vengeance demon—and Angel had wandered in as they lay on their backs, panting and sated.

It was Friday. Angel had spoken only once all week: On Wednesday evening he’d said “Hot,” and pulled a piece of pizza away from Xander’s mouth, probably saving Xander from a nasty roof-of-the-mouth burning. It didn’t exactly take psychic powers to know that cheese and pepperoni could make for a dangerous combination, but Xander appreciated the thought, and he’d thanked Angel sincerely. Spike had muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Poufs,” and taken a big bite of his own slice.

But now Angel was silent. He was filling out, Xander noticed. He still wasn’t his more usual muscular self, but at least he didn’t look like he was starving anymore. Unlike Spike, he wouldn’t eat any human food, but Spike said he never had been interested in the stuff, and he was drinking plenty of blood. Spike had managed to find a source for human blood that was respectable enough to assuage his soul. He couldn’t get enough for both of them, but Xander supplemented with cow’s blood from the butchers, and that seemed to be working well.

Spike was idly playing with Xander’s hair, curling a strand of it around a finger and then tugging lightly on it. “What if your Watcher can’t find a cure?” he asked.

“I don’t know. We can keep looking, I guess. Maybe Willow will come up with something.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Xander rolled his head to the side so he was looking at Spike. “Are you asking me whether there’s some time limit on this deal? ‘Cause there isn’t. You guys can stay as long as you want.” He swallowed. “I want you to stay. But if you’re feeling tied down, I can take care of him.”

“Got nowhere else to go, really.”

“Why are you doing this? Looking after him, I mean. Last I knew, you guys didn’t get along so great.”

Spike sighed. “’T’s complicated. We were together for twenty years, you know, back in the bad old days. And Angelus—he was sadistic and bossy and he’d play these games with Dru and me. But he was family. The soul bollocksed that up, of course. And then he was so holier-than-thou over it, and when he lost the bloody thing again, that time when he shagged Buffy, then he was just a lunatic. In LA, we weren’t best mates or anything, but toward the end there he could finally respect me a bit. And he was fighting the good fight, or trying to, anyhow, even if he was doing a sodding awful job of it. And then afterward, after the battle…. I dunno. He’s all I had, really. Never was any good on my own, and I’ve plenty of practice at caring for barmy demons.”

“Did you two ever, uh, have a thing together?”

“A ‘thing?’”

“Did you have sex?”

“Occasionally. Back in the nineteenth century, yeah? And a few times more recently. Most times we’d start out fighting and end up fucking.”

Xander thought it over and decided that he was neither surprised nor jealous. “Well, it’s nice that you stuck with him when nobody else would.”

“Told you. Family.”

“Yeah, like that means anything to some people.”

Spike stroked Xander’s cheek. “I remember those sorry excuses for humans who called themselves your parents. What happened to them?”

“No idea. They took off before Sunnydale blew, and didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address. Not that I’ve made any effort to track them down.”

And then, because he couldn’t help it, Xander began to laugh.

“What?” Spike asked.

“I’m just picturing the look on dear old Dad’s face if he walked into this room right now.”

Spike looked thoughtful. “Yeah, I reckon my mum would be scandalized right down to her Victorian button-up shoes. But she’d get over it after a few cordials. She’d still love me.”

“How about your dad?” It had never occurred to Xander to wonder about Spike’s father before.

“Dunno. He died when I was hardly more than a baby.”

Xander imagined Spike as a toddler, all blue eyes and curly hair, and he smiled a little.

 

***

 

On Saturday afternoon Xander went shopping and he bought an Xbox. He thought it might help keep Spike busy, and Spike certainly seemed pleased about it. Angel liked to watch.

On Sunday, Spike was beating Xander at Grand Theft Auto when the phone rang. Xander put down the joystick and looked at Angel expectantly, but Angel didn’t do his precognition thing, and so Xander just answered.

“Xander? How are you getting on?”

“We’re okay, Giles. Angel seems a little more comfortable, I think. Have you found something?”

“I believe so, yes. Xander, I spoke with Buffy the other day. She said Spike is staying with you as well.”

“Yeah?” Xander said warily.

“You don’t have to allow him to do so, you know. He’s quite capable of taking care of himself.”

“I’m sure he is. But I asked him to stay. I like having him here.” Spike had been fiddling with the game controller, but now he looked up at Xander.

“You like having _Spike _there? Was he damaged in the fight as well?”

“No, he’s….” Xander closed his eye and counted to five, then opened it again. “He’s my friend, Giles. I know that sounds kind of strange coming from me, but there you go. We’re…pretty close, actually.”

Spike had a strange look on his face, a combination of surprise and pleasure, with maybe a bit of a leer thrown in for good measure.

“You’re…close.” Giles cleared his throat. “Erm…yes. I see. Xander, I realize you’ve been quite lonely, but—“

Oh, Xander so didn’t need advice on his sex life from Giles. “Seriously, G-Man. Can it. I know you mean well, but I can handle Spike—uh, handle things on my own. Grown man here.” A grown man who would possibly die later over having just outed himself to Giles, except that Spike was looking so smug and happy that Xander suspected he was going to get shagged to death by a vampire first. “You called about Angel, remember?”

There was a lengthy pause, during which the evil part of Xander couldn’t help but wonder what the man’s reaction would be if Xander informed him that he’d been snuggling with Angel. Finally, Giles sighed. “Yes, all right.”

“You said you’ve found something out,” Xander prompted.

“When Spike first brought Angel to us, we assumed that Angel had been injured in some way during the battle, perhaps attacked with some magical weapon. But now, with the latest developments, I’m not certain about that at all. Has he made any more predictions?”

“Yeah, I think so. Nothing earth-shattering or anything.”

“But he’s been able to articulate things before they’ve occurred?”

“A couple times, yes.” By now, Spike had put down the joystick and was standing next to Xander, cocking his head slightly and clearly listening in. Xander closed the short distance between them and put his head up next to Spike’s; Spike draped his arm around Xander’s waist.

 “There apparently exists a, well, a sort of curse, or condition. I’m not certain what to call it, actually. It’s generally translated as the Veil. It was first mentioned in Babylonia, during the reign of Shamshi-Adad I, and then the Assyrians discussed it, and then it seems to have traveled to Greece during the Hellenistic period, perhaps even with Alexander the Great himself. I believe the Veil may very well have been the source of the Delphic Oracle, and then it moved to Rome under Ptolemy the Great. After that—“

“Giles. The history lesson is really fab, but do you think I can have the Cliff’s Notes version?”

“Yes, of course. I’d forgotten your enthusiasm for such things. As best as I can ascertain, the Veil causes a person to see more clearly into the nexus between the ordinary world and the mystical. The person is better able to see the true nature of magical things that might otherwise appear ordinary, as well as beings that might seem ordinary, but are not.”

“Like Slayers and Watchers.”

“Precisely. Usually the person who is…I’m not sure of the term. Afflicted? Gifted? In any case, the person who is Veiled tends to be somewhat distanced from the normal world, but still able to function within it. I think perhaps Angel is affected especially adversely due to the unusual presence of both a demon and a soul.”

Xander and Spike both looked over at Angel. He seemed oblivious to the conversation. He’d taken one of Xander’s _BSG_ collectibles out of the package—no more MIB Starbuck, Xander thought sadly—and was sitting on the couch, turning the toy gently over in his hands.

“How did Angel end up hexed?” Xander asked.

“Again,” mouthed Spike.

“I gather that the last Veiled person was working for Wolfram &amp; Hart. Angel must have killed that person during the battle, or perhaps only been standing closest when he or she died. So the Veil passed on to him.”

“Well, shit.” Angel was holding the doll up near his face and, although Xander couldn’t hear anything, Angel was moving his lips as if he were having a deep conversation with the thing. “How do we get him Unveiled, then?”

There was a long and ominous silence. Finally, Giles said, “The only way to lift the Veil is to pass it on to someone else. And the only way for that to occur is for the Veiled one to die.”

“Fuck,” said Xander and Spike in unison.

“Look, Xander. I know this situation is hardly ideal. But now that we understand what’s happening, we can make use of it. Angel’s abilities could be a real asset for us as we—“

“No. No way.” Xander surprised himself with the vehemence of his response. “Nobody’s going to use him.” Spike blinked at him.

“But, Xander—“ Giles began.

“No ‘but Xander.’ He’s just starting to not be completely miserable, and I’m not gonna screw that up by allowing you guys to come and terrorize him. I know you mean well, but he’d freak out and you know it. It’s not fair to him, Giles. There must be some way to fix him, and we’re going to find it.”

Giles wasn’t especially pleased about that, but maybe he could discern the stubbornness in Xander’s voice. With a promise that he’d continue to look into the matter, and an additional promise that no Watchers would be coming to town to hassle Angel, he hung up.

“I didn’t expect that, love,” Spike said to him.

“Which part? The Angel as ancient mystic soothsayer thing? That kinda took me by surprise, too.”

Spike lifted his chin. “The way you stood up for him. And for me.” Spike’s arm was still around Xander, and now he squeezed Xander tight and leaned his head against Xander’s.

“Even when you were evil, you were honest, Spike. And you kept your obligations. I figure I owe you at least that much.”

“And what do you owe the pouf?”

“I don’t know,” Xander said. “Nothing really. It’s just that he’s vulnerable like this.” Angel was still chatting silently with Starbuck, nodding at something as if the doll had been spilling about boy troubles and Angel was being sympathetic. Xander chuckled. “And kind of cute.”

Spike just shook his head. “He’s completely off his trolley.”

“Yeah, well, I seem to remember a certain vampire being loco in the basement, so cut him some slack.”

“The whole Aurelian line, barmy as a bag of badgers.”

“Yeah, well, it’s no wonder. I met Darla’s sire, remember?”

Spike made an amused noise, then turned his head a little and nibbled on Xander’s ear. “How about we leave Miss Cleo here alone with his date, and I go do all the things to you that the Watcher was imagining?”

“How do you know what Giles was imagining?”

“Public school. It’s been twisting us for generations.”

 

[Chapter Seven](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/143488.html) 

 

 


	7.  The Unveiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[spike/xander/angel](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander/angel), [the unveiling](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/the%20unveiling)  
  
---|---  
  
_**The Unveiling (7 of 10)**_  
**Title:** The Unveiling    
**Chapter:** 7/10   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander/Angel   
**Rating:** NC-17    
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:**  Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.   
**AN:** The fic is complete and I'll post a chapter per day. Comments are cherished. The plot bunny was a gift from [](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/profile)[**acaranna**](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/)  and all the wonderful banners are by [](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/profile)[**blondebitz**](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/) !  Thank you to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for her quick and helpful beta work, without which there would be many more errors in this fic.

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=The%20Unveiling&filter=all).

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000b2efw/)  
---  
  
**Seven**

 

Xander was surprised when Angel was waiting for him as he got out of the shower. “What’s up?” Xander asked, trying to stifle a yawn. As he buttoned up his shirt, he looked enviously over Angel’s shoulder at Spike, who was still in bed, dead to the world, and looking mighty goddamn tempting.

Angel frowned at him but said nothing. So Xander shrugged and made his way to the front hall, where his boots were waiting for him. He briefly considered making breakfast, but then decided on a Starbucks run instead. It was a venti mocha kind of day. He bent to lace his boots and then stood, and nearly jumped right back out of those boots when he discovered that Angel had snuck up behind him. “Jesus, Angel! It’s a good thing you’re firmly ensouled.”

Angel gazed earnestly back at him. “Two thirteen,” he said.

“Um…is this a math quiz? I never was any good at math.”

Xander caught just a glimpse of the vampire he’d once known, as Angel huffed impatiently at him. “Home. Two thirteen.”

“Is that an address? ‘Cause I need the street name, too.”

Angel scowled for a moment and then trotted away. When he came back, he was clutching the clock radio in his hands. “Two thirteen,” he said again.

Of course the clock’s LED face was blank, but Xander got the message anyway. “You want me home at two thirteen, big guy?”

Angel didn’t answer, but his shoulders relaxed a little, as if in relief.

“I don’t suppose you want to oracle yourself into telling me why my presence is necessary?”

Angel looked at him a moment longer, yawned, and padded back into the bedroom, presumably for some more shut-eye.

Xander was distracted at work, wondering what the hell was going to happen. Why couldn’t prophecies be clearer? Wouldn’t it be a lot more helpful if they just said something like, “Dude. There will be 20 mile per hour winds and a quarter inch of rain on the 12th of December. Bring an umbrella.” What was the point in telling the future if you were going to be so frigging ambiguous about it?

But he worked through lunch, and at 1:30 he tossed his tools into his truck. Needham was on the site today, helping survey the empty lot next door. Xander tracked him down. “Hey, boss, I’ve gotta take off early today. I have an appointment.” Which wasn’t entirely untrue.

Needham nodded at him. “No problem. Nice finishing work, by the way.”

Xander smiled his thanks and then headed towards his truck.

He arrived home at just after two, and nothing seemed to be amiss. The vampires were still in bed, the lazy things. They looked adorable all cuddled up together and Xander made a mental note to tell Spike that when he woke up. But Xander was loathe to disturb them just yet, so he went to the kitchen and dug around in the fridge until he found some leftover pizza.

He was just taking the plate to the sink when a bloodcurdling scream came from the bedroom. He dropped the dish on the floor and, ignoring the way it shattered into a million pieces, tore out of the kitchen.

Spike was crouched on the floor, his vamped-out face a frozen mask of horror, staring at some spot on the wall to Xander’s right. Xander looked at the wall, but as far as he could tell, there was nothing there but white paint. Then Spike screamed again and held his arms in front of his face as if to protect it. “Blue!” he yelled. “Charlie!”

Angel had been hovering nearby, and he approached Spike as if to calm him. Spike growled and lashed out blindly with his hands, barely missing Angel with his fingernails. Angel hopped back and looked over at Xander.

Then Spike collapsed onto his knees and buried his face in his hands, and he sobbed and sobbed like his world was ending. Xander had seen him lose it like that once before, the time Buffy died, and it was fucking awful. This time, though, Spike was crying, “Liam, Liam,” over and over again, and Xander realized that Spike was reliving another disaster altogether.

Moving slowly and carefully—he was in no mood at all to lose a chunk of his throat—Xander crept closer to Spike, making the kind of low soothing noises he’d use to calm a frightened animal. Spike didn’t react to him at all, which was mostly a good thing under the circumstances. When Xander got within a few feet of him he knelt and said Spike’s name, and, when Spike continued to shake and wail, he said “William,” instead. Spike looked up at him suddenly. Then he launched himself at Xander, and for a split second Xander was certain he was going to end up as vampire chow. But he held his ground, and all Spike did was throw his arms around Xander’s neck—almost hard enough to knock Xander over—and cover Xander’s shoulder in tears and demon snot.

Xander held him tightly, continuing to croon nonsense at him, and waited for the trembling to stop. Angel was just out of reach, looking distressed. “Come here, Angel,” Xander said, and Angel did. He enveloped Spike in his arms, too, and nuzzled his face against Spike’s sleep-wild hair.

After what seemed like a long time, Xander felt Spike’s muscles relax until Spike was slumped between them. “Sorry,” Spike said, his voice muffled by the fabric of Xander’s shirt.

“Don’t be. I had nightmares about that fucker Caleb for months. Pretty much until you guys turned up, actually.”

Spike sniffled. “That was my fault, too. Too bloody slow. Always too bloody slow.”

“Don’t be stupid, Spike. You saved my other eye that day, and then you saved the world, and you saved Angel, too, by taking care of him and dragging him around until you found him a safe place.”

Xander didn’t know if that mollified Spike, but at least Spike had stopped crying.

“C’mon, fang-face. I’ll warm you up some blood.”

Spike nodded against him. “All right. You can let go of me now, whelp.”

Xander kissed his ear. “Not a whelp.”

 

***

 

Longer days meant longer hours of work. Xander was sore and exhausted by the time he got home, but he was content. He knew he’d done well today, as he nearly always did. Someone would soon have a nice, well-made home, in part thanks to him. Ballard had returned to work a few days earlier, still complaining about his ankle. But once he learned that Xander really was sleeping with a man, Ballard had only made a few jokes about Spike’s name and then settled back in. So Xander had pretty much let it be known to everyone that he was batting for the other team, and nobody had cared. Well, nobody except Brady, but Brady was an asshole who didn’t like Xander anyway. It was easy for Xander to ignore Brady’s homophobic comments. This afternoon, when Brady said “faggot” as Xander walked by him, Ballard tapped Xander on the shoulder, pointed at Brady, and said, “Whattaya think, Harris? Overcompensating much?” Everyone but Brady laughed.

Xander stopped for take-out from China Café on his way home. Spike joined him in eating Mongolian beef and Hunan shrimp, while Angel sat at the table with them, drawing. A few weeks earlier, Xander had discovered Angel scribbling on the back of his electric bill. Spike said that Angel used to like to draw, so Xander had brought home a sketchpad and a set of fancy pencils. Angel had actually smiled when Xander gave him the gifts—a rare event that lit up the vampire’s face and made him truly beautiful. Since then, he’d spent hours sketching every day, making careful portraits of Spike and Xander, and sometimes of Spike and Xander together, and of other people—a man, a woman, a girl—in what Spike said was eighteenth century clothing. Spike and Xander suspected they were Angel’s once upon a time human family. Just lately, though, he’d been doing landscapes and buildings. Tonight he was working on a detailed rendering of a Georgian townhouse, where Spike said they’d stayed for several months back in their Scourge days. It reassured Xander to know that at least some of Angel’s memories were still intact.

After dinner was eaten, Spike convinced Xander to take a hot bath, as much to relax him as to wash the grime from work away. While Xander soaked and sipped at a beer, Spike sat on the closed toilet and told him about the fight he’d had the night before in which, he claimed, he’d beaten a trio of Stizesor demons bloody. Xander wasn’t sure how much was true and how much was exaggeration, but it was a good story. Besides, Spike was still sporting a pretty good shiner and a noticeable limp, so he’d clearly been up to something interesting the night before. And in any case, Xander liked to hear Spike talk, loved to watch the way his animated face flashed with emotions as he told his tale. And he especially loved Spike’s laugh, which sounded full and genuine, not bitter or ironic.

Probably the soap had slightly narcotic effects. At least that’s what Xander blamed, as he heard himself asking, “Spike? Are you happy?”

Spike’s eyebrows went up. “Happy, pet?”

“Yeah. Like, are you content with your unlife?”

“Been watching Dr. Phil again, have we?”

Xander splashed some water at him. “I was just wondering. I know this whole thing is a little unconventional, even for a vamp. But you don’t seem too miserable, and I just wanted to know.”

“Look, whelp. I’ve spent most of my existence in crypts and empty factories and the like. ‘M not going to turn up my nose at a comfy bed and electricity and plenty of hot water. I’ve got all the blood I need, a brawl when I fancy one, and nobody’s tried to dust me in ages. On top of that I have bloody brilliant shagging with my boy. So, yeah, I reckon I’m happy.”

“And I’m really your boy?” Xander knew perfectly well how stupid he sounded, but he couldn’t help himself.

“What do you want, Xan? A sodding ring? You’re the one with the history of being gun-shy about relationships, pet, not me.”

Xander nodded.

Spike sighed and pulled the plug, then hauled Xander out of the tub. “You need some reassurances? Come with me.” He swiped the towel quickly over Xander’s body and dragged him into the bedroom. When they got there, he pushed Xander face-down on the bed, straddled him, and began to massage Xander’s shoulders and back.

Xander groaned loudly as strong fingers kneaded his muscles. His body loosened inch by inch, and by the time Spike had moved down and was working Xander’s ass, Xander was feeling very reassured indeed. “Clothes off,” he said into his pillow. “I want a masseur with clothes off.”

“Demanding git,” Spike said. But he did undress, and when he climbed back on the bed he spread Xander’s cheeks and licked Xander’s pucker, proving that his tongue was as nimble as his hands. A moment later the tongue was replaced by a single slick digit, and Xander wondered when Spike had managed to magically retrieve the lube. A second finger entered him and he stopped wondering anything at all.

Xander whined when the fingers withdrew. But then the mattress moved a little as Spike shifted, and the fingers were replaced by Spike’s cock, stretching him and filling him so very nicely. “Don’t have to move at all, love,” Spike said, his voice like warmed honey. “Just let me do all the work.”

And Xander did, concentrating on the exquisite drawing of flesh against flesh, until he couldn’t be still any longer, and then he struggled upward until he was kneeling. Spike managed to not disengage himself in the meantime; in fact, his rhythm barely faltered. Spike grabbed Xander’s leaking cock with one hand while his other played across Xander’s chest, tweaking and rolling the nipples. And Spike whispered into Xander’s ear, a long string of endearments like “Beautiful boy,” and “So lovely,” and “God, you feel so bloody nice,” and finally, just before Xander came, Spike said in a voice hardly more than a cool breath, “I love you, whelp.”

Xander’s knees were still feeling kind of rubbery as he pulled on a pair of shorts. Spike didn’t look at him as Spike tugged on his jeans, but before they left the bedroom, Xander grabbed Spike’s arm and pulled him close. He rubbed his stubble against Spike’s eternally smooth cheek and said, “Me, too, undead guy.”

A tiny noise escaped Spike, sort of a desperate moan, and for just a moment he slumped completely against Xander, and Xander felt strong and brave and accomplished and loved. “Berk,” said Spike and sniffled and pulled away.

Angel was on the couch, staring intently at the blank television screen. Xander threw himself down beside Angel and grabbed the remote. “Blazers game tonight,” he remembered and clicked the TV on.

But Angel said, “Celtics by ten.”

“Thanks a lot, Nostradamus.” Xander turned the TV off again. He leaned back against the cushions and closed his eye, moving around just a little so he could feel the sweet ache in his ass. “Could have told me that earlier and I could have placed a bet on it.”

The couch moved slightly as Spike sat on Angel’s other side. “Told you. We’ve plenty of dosh. You need some, you just let me know.”

“Yeah, but that’s not nearly as much fun as winning it through magically enhanced gambling.”

“Should do something with the money, then. Some of it, in any case. Doesn’t do anyone any good just sitting there.”

Xander cracked his eye open. “I have an idea.”

“Oh?”

“You could…we could buy this house. Mrs. Donner keeps threatening to sell it. She wants to move to Arizona. Annette’s moving out at the end of the month—she’s getting married, I guess. So I could tear down some walls and stuff. We could have the whole downstairs if we wanted.”

“What about that elephant upstairs?”

“Jesus? He’ll be gone when the semester’s over.”

“Be nice not to have him tromping about at all hours.”

“He can’t help it if he’s not nocturnal, Spike.”

Spike looked thoughtful. “Those lawyer wankers had vamp-safe windows. Necrotinted. You reckon we could find a source for that glass?”

“Well, I doubt they carry it at Home Depot, but we can ask around.”

“It’d be nice to look outside during the day again.”

Xander jumped up with a grin. “I’m going to call Mrs. Donner right now.”

 

***

 

It felt good to be an official homeowner, even if the place was actually paid for by vampire loot of dubious origin. Xander had plans for the place. He was going to divide the upstairs into two big rooms—a studio for Angel and a exercise room for him. Spike said he’d like to use it too, to train in a little. Xander promised him equipment as demon-proof as possible.

Downstairs, Xander planned to expand the master bedroom a little and almost double the size of the living room. The kitchen needed updating badly, and he could redo the bathrooms at last. The other bedroom—which they still called Angel’s room even though Angel hadn’t slept there in months—would remain a spare room for the guests that never came. Xander thought he’d probably install some bookcases, too, because Spike was starting to stack books in hazardous piles all over the place.

The special windows were on order.

But on this particular day, the amenity that sounded most appealing to Xander was air conditioning. Blissful, chilly AC. The vamps didn’t care. Cold-blooded bastards. So when Xander came home after a day of broiling atop a roof, he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t even muster enough energy to pop open a beer. He just tore off his clothing, which was so coated in dried sweat it could practically stand upright, and collapsed backwards onto his mattress, silently thanking the ceiling fan gods for their bounty.

A beautiful but smirking face appeared overhead. “Tough day, love?”

“Mmgm.”

“Wanna shag?”

“Too melty.”

“What do you want, then, pet?”

“Water,” Xander said.

Spike disappeared. Xander closed his eye and imagined icebergs and snowy mountains. Ice cream cones. The wind howling mournfully over frozen tundra. And then he yelped as something hard and cold plopped into his belly.

The smug face was hovering overhead again. Next to it was a raised hand filled with ice cubes. A twitch of the hand and another cube landed on him, this time just above his pubic hair. “What?” he squeaked.

“You asked for water. Didn’t say what form you wanted it in.”

And then a vampire was pinning him down on the bed, pressing ice against Xander’s chest and arms and legs and—Jesus Christ, against his _balls_—and Xander was shrieking and laughing and telling Spike he was an evil goddamn monster. And soon the ice was melted and Xander was considerably cooler, except he was hot now in a totally different way, and there were mouths and hands everywhere and it was altogether wonderful and--

“Please.”

Xander and Spike both froze in mid-grope. They looked over at the bedroom doorway where Angel stood, looking forlorn. They peeled apart and walked over to him.

“What is it, Liam?” Spike asked. “Is something wrong?” His voice was soft and full of concern.

Angel looked down at his feet then up again. “Please,” he repeated. In all the months he’d been there, he hadn’t asked for anything before.

“What do you want?” said Spike.

And that’s when Xander noticed what he should have before, which was the erection tenting out Angel’s sweatpants. “Uh, Spike?” Xander said.

Spike looked down at Angel’s groin. “Oh.”

Unexpectedly, Angel grabbed Xander’s shoulders and pulled them together, hiding his face in the crook of Xander’s neck. “Please. I need.” He sounded like he might be going to cry, and Xander was completely at a loss for what to do.

“Spike?” Xander said.

“It’s up to you, pet.”

“But I don’t want to…take advantage of him.”

“He’s not an innocent, Xander. He’s a 250-year-old demon. And I don’t exactly think you’d be taking advantage. He’s begging for it.”

“But…but does he really know—“

“Let him take the lead, then. See what he wants.”

Xander felt Angel against him, hard and wanting. Here he was again, back down the rabbit hole.

“Okay. But you too.”

Spike grinned. “Bent bugger, aren’t you?”

“Folded, spindled, and mutilated.”

Together, they maneuvered Angel toward the bed. When he realized where they were going he nearly sagged with relief and then he scrambled eagerly onto the sheets and looked at them expectantly.

“So, um…?”

“Let’s begin by undressing him, yeah?”

During the previous months, Angel hadn’t quite managed to master bathing himself or putting his clothes on or off, and Spike and Xander had taken turns at it. So they quickly and adeptly yanked off his green t-shirt and his gray sweats, and for the first time Xander saw Angel’s cock erect. It was pretty impressive, actually.

Xander and Spike joined him on the bed and for a moment they knelt there uncertainly. So Angel decided to take things into his own hands. So to speak. He pushed on Xander’s chest until Xander was lying flat and then licked Xander’s cock from base to tip. Spike scooted himself underneath Angel at sort of an awkward angle and took Angel’s cock in his mouth.

Xander mostly lost track of who did what to whom after that. He learned that Angel was as good at deep-throating as Spike was—hell, Angel had probably taught him how. He learned that given the right stimulus and a few minutes to catch his breath, and despite having had a tough time at work, he could climax three times in one night. He learned that watching Spike plow into Angel was tied for first on the hotness scale with watching Angel plow into Spike.

It was a very educational evening.

When none of them could move any longer, they simply lay in a large, sticky pile. Angel had his head on Spike’s belly and most of the rest of him on Xander. He was heavier now than when he’d first arrived. But he looked very satisfied. Just before he fell asleep, he sighed happily, wiggled a bit, and then said, “Willow.”

 

[Chapter 8](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/143934.html)

 


	8.  The Unveiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[spike/xander/angel](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander/angel), [the unveiling](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/the%20unveiling)  
  
---|---  
  
_**The Unveiling (8 of 10)**_  
**Title:** The Unveiling    
**Chapter:** 8/10   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander/Angel   
**Rating:** NC-17    
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:**  Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.   
**AN:** The fic is complete and I'll post a chapter per day. Comments are cherished. The plot bunny was a gift from [](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/profile)[**acaranna**](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/)  and all the wonderful banners are by [](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/profile)[**blondebitz**](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/) !  Thank you to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for her quick and helpful beta work, without which there would be many more errors in this fic.

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=The%20Unveiling&filter=all).

**Posting early in case I don't survive daughter's sleepover.**

  
[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000axdd5/)

   
  
---  
  
**Eight**

 

Xander spent most of Saturday expecting Willow to call, but she didn’t. He went to Lowe’s and bought a window air conditioner and came home and installed it in the bedroom, where the lazy vampires were still entwined with one another. He mowed the parts of the lawn that weren’t seared dry. He put on a sprinkler in the back yard and ran through it like a six-year-old until he thought about how Spike and Angel would never know the joy of cold water on a hot afternoon, and then he turned off the hose and went inside.

Willow still didn’t call. Xander tightened a loose doorknob and replaced a burnt-out lightbulb, then sat at the kitchen table to leaf through cabinet catalogs. Angel was across from him, drawing a detailed and anatomically correct sketch of the three of them having sex, while Spike, as unlikely as it seemed, made dinner. A recipe he’d learned in Tunisia, he said. While he chopped and mixed he hummed Sex Pistols songs and took swigs from a bottle of Jack, and sometimes turned around to grin at Xander. Veils and gay vampire threesomes aside, it was a more domestic scene than any Xander had had with Jessica and Tony.

For maybe the first time ever, Xander felt like he was home.

The couscous was spicy and wonderful, with chicken and vegetables and who knew what else. Spike and Xander washed it down with plenty of beer, but Angel just clutched his mug of blood in his big hands and stared at the tabletop.

It was dark by the time they finished and they went for a stroll. They did most nights, actually. Tonight there were a lot of people out, sitting on porches and front stairs, sprawled in lawn furniture with bottles in their hands. Angel ignored most of them, though some threw him an odd look or two as he zig-zagged from one random object to another in a way that reminded Xander of a dog out for a walk. When Angel paused to examine something, Spike and Xander stopped too, waiting patiently until he moved on again.

Angel halted and tilted his head and stared at a pink plastic car—the kind that had a battery operated motor and little kids could ride in—that was parked near the curb.

“What’s the big dude’s problem?” asked a scruffy-looking guy in his mid-twenties. The guy was sitting on the grass with two similar men, and they were passing around a fat joint. “He a retard or something?”

“No. He’s one of my vampire lovers and he’s been cursed by an ancient magical Veil.” Xander smiled pleasantly at the man.

The man’s friends chortled, but he scowled. “Who are you, Captain Smartass? Instead of a parrot you got a Billy Idol wannabe?”

Surprisingly, Spike didn’t rise to the bait. He didn’t do anything, actually, other than take out his lighter and nonchalantly flick it on and off.

So Xander continued smiling. “Seems to me, a guy who feels the need to mock total strangers is either sadly lacking in a life of his own or trying badly to cover up his insecurities in front of his pals.”

Spike snickered and Angel ignored them all while he poked at a peeling Barbie logo on the car.

“You tryin’ a start a fight?” snarled the man.

Xander sighed. “Not really. Go back to baking your few remaining brain cells. We’re just trying to get some fresh air.”

Angel straightened up then and Spike and Xander flanked him, ambling slowly down the sidewalk. A clatter and footsteps behind them told Xander that the idiot had not yet had enough. “Don’t walk away from me, fuckwad,” the man said.

Xander and Spike turned around. Angel would have kept going, but Spike grasped his arm. “Hey, buddy,” Xander said. “You’re making a mistake. Go back to your friends and your weed and leave us alone.”

As an answer, the man pulled back his fist and took a swing at Xander’s face.

And then a funny thing happened. Without even thinking about it, Xander ducked, grabbed the man’s arm, and twisted it up high behind the man’s back. It was as effortless as tying his shoes. This guy was just a stoned, stupid asshole, the kind who would have been fledge fodder back in Sunnydale and, while Xander might not be much of a match for big, scary demons, he could end this loser’s life, easy as pie.

He didn’t, though, he just held him tight and listened to him yelp. Angel finally took an interest and he came close and then, with no warning at all, shifted to gameface. The man screamed and pissed his pants.

Xander glanced up at his captive’s friends, but they couldn’t see Angel’s face, and didn’t seem especially inclined to intervene and help their friend. Xander bent his head and whispered into the man’s ear: “Go home and forget this ever happened. And stop being such an asswipe.” He shoved the man away from himself. The man stumbled, fell to his knees, and then squawked and scrambled to his feet before scuttling away. Angel let his face melt back to human and they resumed their walk.

A few blocks farther on, as Angel felt up a Douglas fir, Xander bonked his shoulder into Spike’s. “Way to come to my defense, undead scary guy.”

Spike bonked him back. “Didn’t need me, did you? Did just fine on your own.”

“But what if I hadn’t? What if he’d wiped the floor with me?”

“Knew he didn’t have a chance, pet. You could have fed him his arse without even breaking a sweat.”

Spike had confidence in his fighting abilities. That realization made Xander grin like a loon and Spike rolled his eyes. “Even a baby Pockla would still have you for lunch, you know.”

Xander’s grin didn’t fade. “Yep.”

 

***

 

Willow didn’t call that night, either. Xander got a little worried about her, actually, and tried to call her, but only got her voicemail. The three of them watched TV for a while. “You going out tonight?” Xander asked as Spike grabbed the remote from him.

“Why? Trying to get rid of me?”

“Just curious. “

“Think I’ll stay in.” Spike sighed and glanced at Angel. “I miss having someone to fight beside me, yeah? Gets boring by myself after a while.”

“You miss him, don’t you? The broody, bossy version, I mean.”

Spike was silent a moment, and then he nodded. “I’d even fancy some of Angelus’s malicious glee.”

They didn’t have sex that night, but when Xander went to bed, so did the vampires. They clung together in a tight, naked pile that comforted all of them, and Xander dreamed of sailing ships and treasure chests.

 

***

 

“Oh, good Goddess!”

Xander must have been dreaming, because then there was Willow, all with the gauzy skirts and the wind-whipped hair, and she had one hand over her mouth and her blue eyes were very wide.

Angel took one look at her, made a horrible mewling noise, and dove for the corner of the room, where he huddled in a remarkably tiny ball.

“You know, Red, you could have just rung the doorbell.” Spike didn’t even try to pull the blankets over himself, and Xander wondered if he himself was as crimson-faced as Willow—sure felt like it—and he dithered uncertainly for a terrible minute before he walked over to Angel, hunched next to him, and put his arms around the cowering vampire’s shoulders.

“Xan, I—You—I—“ Willow spluttered incoherently for a moment as Xander turned his head back and gave Spike a desperate, pleading look.

Spike looked put upon. But he stood and pulled on his jeans and, without bothering to button them, approached Willow. “Tell you what, love. Let’s move into the next room so my boy can find his dignity and Peaches doesn’t shake the house down.” She docilely allowed herself to be drawn away.

Angel relaxed a little when she was gone. Xander patted his back, then stood and yanked on a pair of cut-offs he sometimes wore to do yard work and a ragged red t-shirt. He wasn’t sure what to do about Angel. The sun had risen, and Xander wasn’t at all certain that Angel wouldn’t completely freak and go crashing out the window or something. So he knelt again and pressed his lips to Angel’s cheek. “Hey, big guy. It’s okay. Just our friendly neighborhood witch, remember?”

Angel didn’t look convinced.

Xander found a pair of sweatpants—they were probably once his but Angel seemed to have appropriated them—and helped Angel into them. While they stood, Xander leaned his forehead against Angel’s and threaded the fingers of both hands through the soft hair on the back of Angel’s head. “She won’t hurt you, I promise. She doesn’t want to, and Spike and I would never let her. You’re safe.”

Angel sucked at his bottom lip, but he didn’t collapse into the corner again, and Xander took that as a good sign. Together they slowly made their way into the living room, where Spike and Willow were eyeing each other warily from opposite sides of the room. She was very pale and her mouth dropped open again at the way Angel was clinging to Xander, but she didn’t say anything.

“Hi, Will. How the hell did you get here?”

“T-teleported. And you were—with Spike and Angel—and you were….”

Spike sighed and levered himself away from the wall he’d been leaning on. “Xan was in his own bed in his own house, and if you don’t want to be surprised you shouldn’t go poofing in uninvited.”

“Xander?” she said, sounding lost.

“Will, Spike and I…well, it was kind of a surprise to me, too, but I’ve pretty much fallen for him.” Spike smiled and looked down at the floor. “He’s my…I don’t know what to call him. He’s mine. And Angel, well, that’s kind of a thing, ‘cause he’s…Christ, I’m really not explaining this very well.”

“Xan? Are you under a spell?”

He snorted out a laugh. “No, I’m pretty sure not.”

She nodded. “And…you’re happy?”

“Aside from Angel’s situation, yes. I’m as happy as I’ve ever been.”

She took a deep breath and let it out, then nodded again. He recognized her old Resolve Face. “Good. You deserve it.” She turned her face to glare at Spike. “If you hurt him, mister, I promise you….”

Spike held his hands up. “Not gonna hurt him, Samantha. I bloody love him, don’t I?”

“Oookay,” she said.

“Don’t I get a ‘welcome to the gay club’ speech? Is there a gift basket?”

“Alexander Lavelle Harris, why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

“Not really the kind of thing you want to share long distance, necessarily. Besides, I’ve been busy and you’ve been…I dunno, gone most of the time. I’m sorry. But now you know. Could we maybe sit down? And you can explain what’s up with the beaming up. Do you get frequent flier miles for that?”

Five minutes later, Angel was seated between Spike and Xander on the couch, while Willow was perched on the chair opposite. Spike had made tea and he and Willow were sipping at it, whereas Xander had opted for OJ—he’d been tempted to spike it with vodka but resisted—and Angel had death grips on Spike’s and Xander’s knees.

Some of the color had returned to Willow’s face and by the looks she was giving them, Xander suspected she’d moved well away from shock and was now firmly in the “Oh my Goddess, they’re so _cute_” phase. “So when Giles told me what was up with Angel—Oh! Does he know _everything_ that’s up with Angel?”

“If you mean does he know that Angel’s up with us, no. That’s a new development. He does know about me and Spike, though.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I am so going to hex him for not telling. Anyway, he’s been digging into his books, of course, and I’ve been asking around, and I think maybe I’ve found a way to unveil Angel. I have a theory, anyway. An untested theory.”

Spike and Xander exchanged looks, and Xander reminded himself not to get too excited about this. “So? Spill.”

“Normally, the Veil passes when the person dies, right? But this isn’t normal, because, well, Angel’s already sorta dead. No offense.”

“So you can just sort of yank the Veil away, then?”

She bit at her lip and looked down at her teacup. “Not quite. Sorry.”

“Willow, if you’re trying to kill me with suspense you’re doing a pretty good job of it.”

She looked up again, and her eyes shifted back and forth between the three of them. “I think we have to kill the demon.”

 

[Chapter Nine](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/144358.html)

 


	9.  The Unveiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[spike/xander/angel](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander/angel), [the unveiling](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/the%20unveiling)  
  
---|---  
  
_**The Unveiling (9 of 10)**_  
**Title:** The Unveiling    
**Chapter:** 9/10   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander/Angel   
**Rating:** NC-17    
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:**  Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.   
**AN:** The fic is complete and I'll post a chapter per day. Comments are cherished. The plot bunny was a gift from [](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/profile)[**acaranna**](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/)  and all the wonderful banners are by [](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/profile)[**blondebitz**](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/) !  Thank you to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for her quick and helpful beta work, without which there would be many more errors in this fic.

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=The%20Unveiling&filter=all).   
    
**I survived the sleepover, although nobody got much sleep. And tomorrow's my birthday, so I've decided to post this chapter now and celebrate tomorrow with the final chapter.**

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000b19rd/)  
---  
  
**Nine**

 

Xander was surprised to find himself on his feet, as if he were trying to place himself between Willow and Angel. Unfortunately, his movements startled Angel, who moaned and tried to press himself into the back of the couch. Spike looked too stunned to react at all.

“Kill the demon?” Xander squeaked.

“Uh-huh. I’m pretty sure that would do it.”

“But, but—“

“Xan, I think I might be able to kill the demon without dusting Angel.” She licked her lips nervously. “Maybe.”

“Then…then what would Angel be?”

She shrugged. “Human, I guess.”

Behind Xander, Spike whispered something that sounded sort of like “Shampoo.”

Xander shook his head to try and clear it. He still wasn’t 100% positive this wasn’t all some weird dream. But Angel was still making distressed noises and Spike’s efforts to comfort him weren’t working, so Xander sat back down on the couch and Angel practically crawled in his lap. The big vampire hid his face against Xander’s neck like a shy toddler and held Spike’s shoulder so tightly Xander knew there would be bruises later. “Angel doesn’t seem to like that idea,” Xander said.

“Pet, I think he’s reacting to you being upset, not to what Red is saying. I expect not much of what she’s said has registered with him.”

That was probably true, Xander thought. He stroked Angel’s back and looked at Willow. “How do you know offing the demon won’t destroy Angel? I mean, if this worked, wouldn’t people be doing it all the time to de-vamp the undead?”

“It’s not an easy thing to do, Xan. We’re talking some pretty major magics. And anyway, if a vamp didn’t have a soul, there’d be nothing left except an…an empty shell. So nobody’s ever tried it before.”

“So you can’t be sure Angel will survive.”

“No, I can’t.”

“And even if he _does_ survive, what will he be like? Will he be Liam, circa 1750? Will he be pretty much like Angel? Will he be Angelus minus the homicide?”

Willow set her cup down on the floor and came over to kneel in front of him. “I don’t know, Xan. I’m pretty sure that with the Veil gone his head would be clear again, but I can’t know what sort of head it would be.”

Xander was silent then, staring down at the tattoo on Angel’s shoulder, feeling his thoughts scurry in his head like squirrels at an acorn festival. It was Spike who spoke next.

“Red, you want to fill us in on the other half of the puzzle?”

Xander frowned at Spike in confusion, but Willow seemed to understand what he meant. She looked worried and stood and walked away, then wandered toward the kitchen. She glanced down at the sketch Angel had left on the table—the one of the three of them having a small, happy orgy—and she meeped, and turned away quickly.

“Spike, what the hell are you talking about? What puzzle?”

“If the Veil is lifted from Angel, it has to go somewhere, yeah? Most likely onto the person who moved it.”

Xander imagined Willow blank-eyed and disconnected, shuffling around without even being able to dress herself, and he shuddered. “No way, Will. You don’t want this supernatural monkey on your back.”

“I’ve been reading about the Veil, Xan. It would be different for me because I’m human. I wouldn’t exactly lead a normal life, but then I’m the girl who just zapped herself here from Ouagadougou. Not so much with the normal here.” She smiled her crooked little smile—the one he remembered from the first day they met, way back in kindergarten, when she’d shared her PB&amp;J with him because Jessica forgot to pack him a lunch—and his heart broke a little.

“Are you sure you want that, Will? You can give up the magics if you want, but not the Veil.”

“Sweetie, I’m never gonna do the house with the picket fence and PTA and soccer games on Saturday mornings thing. I just don’t do normal, I don’t think.”

Xander looked at the vampire still curled in his lap and the other one pressing up against his side and sighed. “Me either, apparently.”

Spike said, “A powerful witch with the ability to foresee the future as well—she’d be quite a force to be reckoned with.” He didn’t sound all that pleased about it.

But Willow just nodded. “She would. I would. But I can already—Xan knows what I could do if I went darkside again. But I’ve grown and it’s under control. I have my coven to support me, to stop me if I’m tempted to go too far. I can handle it, Spike.”

Spike just looked at her noncommittally.

Without really thinking about it, Xander kissed the side of Angel’s head. His hair had grown long and it was a little wavy. Would he go back to wearing hair gel if they did this?

“Willow, it’s really early, especially for the nocturnal among us. We need some time to think this over, okay? It’s…it’s a pretty huge decision.”

“I know. You guys discuss it, okay?”

“We have a guest room if you want to hang around. I’ve been meaning to repaint it but I haven’t picked a color yet. It’s pretty comfy, though, and—“

“Thanks, Xan, but I need to get back. We were dealing with this Mafifanikarl infestation—and by the way? Eww. Gross.—and we still have some stragglers to scrape up. So I’m going to pop on back. Just give me a ring when you decide, or leave a message with Giles. He knows how to contact me when my phone’s not getting a signal.”

“Yeah, okay.” Then a thought occurred to him. “Have you discussed this with Buffy, too?” Xander asked.

“Yep. She’s not thrilled, but she says she’s on board if you are.” Her eyes widened. “Does _she_ know about you with the boy-vamp smoochies?”

“No. Not unless Giles said something. But it’s not a secret, Will. You can tell her if you want.”

She squeed and bounced and clapped her hands. “I’m gonna wait til I can tell her in person.”

Xander gently dislodged Angel, who looked more sleepy now than upset, and stood. “You want a snack or something before you go? Do they serve peanuts when you teleport?”

She came over and gave him a huge, tight hug that smelled of tea and berry shampoo and ozone and something exotic that he imagined might just be Africa. “I love you, Xander Harris,” she whispered. “I’m glad you’re happy. You deserve some happy.” She pulled away and gave him a wicked smile. “And from the looks of things, you’re pretty darn happy around here.”

He couldn’t help it; he blushed.

“Bye, Spike. Bye, Angel.” She took another step back, removed what look like a twig from her skirt pocket, and muttered a few words Xander didn’t understand. Then she snapped the stick and disappeared as instantly and soundlessly as a blown-out flame.

Xander gave Spike an anguished look. “What do we do?”

Spike stood and pulled Angel along with him. He grabbed Xander’s hand, too, and towed them both toward the bedroom. “What we do is we go back to bed. We can sort this after a nice kip.”

Spike was right. Xander certainly wasn’t capable of thinking it through right then. So he stripped off his shorts and helped Angel undress as well, and when Spike was equally naked they all climbed back between the sheets. They ended up spooning with Angel at Xander’s back and Spike at his front. With a last look around the room for any lingering witches, Xander pressed his head into the pillow, closed his eye, and went back to sleep.

 

***

 

Xander buried his face in his hands and groaned. “I shouldn’t have this kind of responsibility. I never even had a puppy. You know what I had? I had a hamster. Mister Fuzzy. I didn’t close its cage all the way and it got out. Then I sort of forgot about it and Tony found it in the kitchen cupboard when he was looking for another bottle of rotgut and he _smashed_ it and then he made me throw it away and he gave me a spanking so hard I couldn’t sit right for days.”

Spike put his arm around Xander. “You’re not seven years old anymore, and that wanker never deserved a son like you.”

“But I’m still Xander Harris! Doughnut boy. Zeppo. The one-eyed loser.”

Spike pried Xander’s hands away and grasped Xander’s chin firmly, so that Xander was looking straight into serious blue eyes. “You are Xander Harris. Saved the world once or twice, didn’t you? Stood by your friends even when it nearly cost you your life.” His free thumb brushed gently over Xander’s left eyelid. “Despite crap parents and a crap childhood, you managed to find a good position where you’re making good pay and everyone knows you’re bloody talented. You took in two sodding demons who you couldn’t even stand—one of them for the third time—and you were kind to them. You came right out of the bleeding closet over it, too, never tried to hide us. You make me feel like a man, you make me feel _important_, and you don’t act like my touch makes you dirty. A hundred and fifty years, Xander, and nobody has ever made me feel worthy the way you do. So, yeah. You’re Xander bloody Harris. Can’t think of anybody more qualified, pet.”

For several moments after Spike’s speech, Xander couldn’t speak at all. Then they had to kiss, of course, and it was such a sweet kiss that Xander nearly forgot what they’d been talking about. Eventually, though, he had to touch down on earth again.

“Why me, though?”

Spike sighed heavily. “Because he can’t tell us himself, can he? Can give us the weather forecast and pick the winner in the next elections, but he can’t let us know what he wants.”

That was true. They’d tried for the better part of the afternoon to gauge Angel’s views on the subject, but he either stared blankly or said a cryptic word or two that didn’t make sense to either of them. When they pushed, he frowned and whimpered a little, and Xander felt mean and they stopped.

“So you should decide. He’s your grandpa.”

“We’ve been through this already, whelp. My relationship with him—it’s just too complicated. I can’t trust myself to think straight about it. And I may have a soul, Xan, but I’m still a demon, and I never have been known for making the wisest choices.” He chuckled wryly. “Not even before I was turned.”

Xander stood and began to pace back and forth, from the back door, where Spike was sitting on a worn wooden bench, across the remains of the lawn, to the fence where Angel was holding a pinecone he’d picked up during their walk, turning it carefully in his fingers. The dry grass crunched under Xander’s boots, and overhead a pair of bats wheeled and swerved in the glow of a streetlight.

“This sucks,” he said as one of his turns took him toward Spike again. “Why couldn’t we just have a peaceful, happy life without fucking magic and curses and terrible options?”

“If Angel hadn’t been Veiled we never would have come here, love. Don’t know what we would have done, but not this. Would that have been better?”

“No! Of course not. It’s just….” He kicked at a cinderblock. “Argh!”

Spike unfolded himself—how could he make even the simplest of movements so sexy?—and intercepted Xander and caught him by the shoulders. “If it were you, Xan, if the Veil had fallen on you and you were like that—“ he pointed at Angel “—what would _you _want? To go on like that, safe but…diminished? Helpless, nearly. Or to try for recovery and risk final death? Or worse, perhaps. Your guess is as good as mine when it comes to mojo.”

“Gee, thanks for making my job easier,” Xander grumbled. But even as he said it, he realized that his job _was_ easier when Spike put it this way, because Xander had no doubt which option he’d choose for himself.

He cupped Spike’s cheek with one palm. “Let’s go call Willow,” he said.

 

[Chapter Ten](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/144400.html)

 


	10.  The Unveiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[spike/xander/angel](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander/angel), [the unveiling](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/the%20unveiling)  
  
---|---  
  
_**The Unveiling (10 of 10)**_  
**Title:** The Unveiling    
**Chapter:** 10/10   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander/Angel   
**Rating:** NC-17    
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:**  Post-series, and Xander is leading a normal life.  But Angel is damaged in the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and Spike brings him to Xander for help.   
**AN:** The fic is complete and I'll post a chapter per day. Comments are cherished. The plot bunny was a gift from [](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/profile)[**acaranna**](http://acaranna.livejournal.com/)  and all the wonderful banners are by [](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/profile)[**blondebitz**](http://blondebitz.livejournal.com/) !  Thank you to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for her quick and helpful beta work, without which there would be many more errors in this fic.

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=The%20Unveiling&filter=all).

**Thank you all for reading and commenting. You're wonderful! And special thanks again to acaranna, blondebitz, and silk_labyrinth!!!**

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000b19rd/)  
---  
  
**Ten**

 

Angel didn’t understand. It was stupid—he was the seer, after all. You’d think he could have some insight into his upcoming ordeal. But he clearly had no clue, and he seemed mystified as to why Spike and Xander were fussing over him, making certain he was the focus of their combined attentions.

Xander started the festivities by letting Angel get his hands on Xander’s Derrial Book figure, which Xander had hidden away from him ever since Angel flushed Jayne Cobb down the toilet. Angel was nicer to Book, playing with his hair and having a silent conversation with the toy over a mug of nuked blood.

As evening approached, Xander pulled out the clothes he’d picked up the day before—a pair of wool pants and a silk shirt and some fancy shoes, all of which were a lot more expensive than anything Xander had ever bought for himself. It was hard to tell whether Angel cared one way or the other, and of course Spike and Xander still had to dress him, but at least he looked more like his old self when they were finished. Except for his hair. But Xander brushed that and Spike tied it back in a pony tail, which was, he claimed, how Angelus had worn it back when.

When it was dark enough, they went for a walk. They stuck to side streets, because the crowds and traffic on Hawthorne always upset Angel, and instead they made their way to a certain chain-link fence that always fascinated Angel. While Angel ran his fingertips over the metal strands, Spike and Xander watched him like doting parents.

“He wanted to be human again, you know,” Spike said. “Dreamed of it. Seemed to think he’d find atonement that way.”

“Will he?”

“How would I know, whelp?”

Xander swatted Spike’s ass. “I’m not a whelp. How about you?”

Spike turned and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “How about me what?”

“Have you dreamed of it?”

Spike crossed his arms. “Was never chasing after redemption, myself. Not really.”

“Yeah, but do you want to be human? I mean, if Willow’s thing works with Angel, she could do it for you.”

“Is that what you want, Xander?” Spike’s expression was flat and unreadable. “You fancy a normal man?”

“First, you will _never_ be normal, human or not. And second, I want you however I can get you. Be my demon lover or get yourself a heartbeat. I’ll love you just the same.”

Spike’s hard expression melted, as he let the mask fall and true wonder shine out. “You mean that, don’t you, pet?”

“Of course I do. I don’t go around declaring my love willy-nilly, you know.”

“William Pratt was a nancy-boy pillock and a big girl’s blouse.”

“I take it that’s a bad thing.”

Spike snorted. “Berk.” Xander wasn’t sure whether he was referring to Xander or his human self. Maybe both. “I _like_ being a demon. Don’t much fancy the murder and mayhem any longer, but this is what I am, and this is what I mean to be.”

Xander caught him in his arms. “Good. I like you like this, too.”

“You’ll get old, though, love. Sick. I won’t.”

“Will it gross you out if I get fat and wrinkly?”

Spike squeezed Xander’s ass. “No. Didn’t fall for you over your pretty face, you know. But…if you wanted…I could turn you someday.” He quickly added, “Red could stick your soul on somehow, I’m sure.”

Strangely, Xander was neither shocked nor horrified at the suggestion. He nibbled lightly at Spike’s neck. “I might like to take a bite out of you someday.”

Spike pushed him away so he could look Xander in the eye. “Really?”

“Really. Maybe. Not now—I like the sun and I like having a pulse. But I’ll think about it.”

Spike sighed and rested against Xander’s chest. “Let’s get him home, yeah?”

Back at the house, Xander fed his vampires. Then he took Angel’s hand and led him into the bedroom, with Spike following behind. Xander stuck a Barry Manilow CD in the clock radio, and although Spike grumbled and made horrible faces, he didn’t try to turn down the volume and he stroked Angel’s hair when Angel smiled at the music. “Just don’t try to sing, you old git,” Spike murmured.

Slowly, delicately, they stripped the clothing off Angel. They peppered his body with little kisses as they went, and by the time he was naked his cock was hard and he was moaning softly, looking at them both with wide, astonished eyes. They made much quicker work of their own clothing and then climbed in the bed with him.

They hadn’t exactly choreographed this, but they had agreed to make Angel feel really, really good. So Xander arranged himself between Angel’s muscular thighs and began to lick delicately at Angel’s cock, while Spike concentrated on nipping and tonguing at Angel’s broad brown nipples. Angel spread his legs wide and writhed and clutched at Xander with one hand and Spike with the other.

Xander wanted to take his time. So when it seemed to him that Angel was getting a little too worked up over the stimulation to his cock, Xander nuzzled Angel’s heavy balls instead, and then licked along Angel’s perineum and around his puckered little hole. Angel squirmed and rocked his hips and tried to impale himself on Xander’s tongue, but he couldn’t actually move much with Spike pinning his upper torso to the blanket.

As Angel’s whines became more insistent, and as Xander’s own cock throbbed demandingly between his legs, Xander inserted his fingers into Angel, first one and then two, stretching and rubbing and finding the little bump of nerves that made Angel thrash around more urgently. Xander almost didn’t notice when Spike moved, but then he felt a strong, cool hand stroking his cock, slicking it up, and he had to fight not to hump himself to oblivion right then.

There was a certain amount of shifting and scooting, and Xander had to apologize when he elbowed Spike in the eye, but eventually Angel’s ass was at the edge of the bed and Xander was between his legs, while Spike straddled Angel’s body with his mouth at Angel’s groin and vice versa. Xander slowly sheathed himself in Angel’s welcoming channel, and he had to close his eyes because the sight of Spike’s clenching ass and of Angel and Spike sucking each other off was just too much for him. In any case, the feelings on his skin were enough. Not just the tightness around his cock, but also the brush of Angel’s thighs against his and the crunchy strands of Spike’s hair under his palms. Sometimes Spike would momentarily abandon Angel’s cock in order to lick or gently bite at Xander’s belly, and that was fine, too. They were noisy, the three of them, flesh slapping on flesh, mouths slurping, lungs taking in or expelling harsh gasps of air, throats emitting indescribable grunts and groans.

And above it all, there was Barry belting out “Can’t Smile Without You,” and the whole thing—hell, Xander’s whole fucking _life_—was just so sublimely ridiculous that he laughed. He was still laughing when one of them began to climax, setting off a chain reaction that had them all jerking and shuddering and panting their releases.

Spike collapsed atop Angel and Xander slumped onto Spike, and it was a good thing Angel didn’t need to breathe.

Eventually they peeled themselves apart and they lay on the mattress in a satisfied heap. The CD switched over to “Could It Be Magic,” and Xander began to laugh again, this time so hard that he couldn’t stop even when Spike bopped him with a pillow.

 

***

 

Willow appeared in their bedroom again the next morning. This time, judging by the wicked smile on her face—a leer of almost Spike-like proportions—Xander was fairly certain she did it on purpose. So was Spike. “Thought you were playing for the other side, Red,” he said, not bothering to pull the covers over himself.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t admire the pretty boys,” she answered. “I bet none of you would turn away in horror if Jessica Biel came parading through here naked.”

“Hey, we’re open-minded guys. If Jessica Biel wants to join us she’s more than welcome.” Xander grinned at her.

Angel had been startled by her sudden materialization, but this time he was more uneasy than frightened. Xander and Spike both held him tightly, and that seemed to help, although it made Xander feel like a traitor for what they were about to do to the helpless vampire.

Willow was wearing her usual floaty skirts and since they’d seen her a few days earlier she’d cut her hair short. She had a slight sunburn on her face and her sandals and feet were covered in a reddish dust. She had a green canvas book bag slung over one shoulder. She looked kind of tired, Xander suddenly noticed. “Hey, Will, are you okay?”

Her smile was warm and genuine. “Yeah, I’m good. I could really go for a bacon double cheeseburger and fries, though. Ooh! And a mochaccino with extra whipped cream. They’re hard to find in Burkina Faso.”

“Lunch is on me, then. You think you’ll do the hocus-pocus better with a full tummy?”

“Yeah, probably. Could you go pick it up while I set things up here?”

“Sure thing.”

She left the room while Xander and Spike dressed. Xander started to help Angel with his clothing, but Spike pushed him gently away. “Go feed your witch. I’ll sort Peaches.”

Xander was back within a half hour, bearing bags of greasy goodness. He’d even picked up an order of onion rings for Spike. Willow had rolled back the rug in the living room and drawn a chalk shape on the wooden floorboards; it was a circle with a lot of squiggly symbols around the edges and a giant eye in the middle. Spike and Angel were watching her warily from the couch while she set little colored stones around the outside of the circle.

They sat at the table to eat. Xander heated Angel a mug of blood, and as he handed the cup over, it occurred to him that this was most likely the last time Angel would ever drink the stuff. He wondered what Angel would make of modern human diets—assuming he survived the magics. None of them spoke much as they ate, but Willow tried to smile at them reassuringly, and, under the table, Spike ran his bare toes up and down Xander’s calves and shins.

When all the food was gone, Spike stood. “Let’s get this over with.”

Angel followed them back to the circle and didn’t protest as Spike sat him in the center. He was wearing only a pair of gray sweats, maybe the same pair he’d been wearing when he arrived. Willow touched up a few of the marks that had got smudged, and then they all stared for a few moments at Angel, who looked back at them with a face blank and innocent. Willow pointed her finger at him and said a few words in a guttural language, and his eyes drooped closed. His shoulders slumped and then he slowly toppled to the side. Xander didn’t notice that he’d stepped forward in alarm until Spike yanked him back. “It’s okay, Xan,” Willow said. “I just thought it would be best if he was asleep.”

Xander nodded, but his knees felt shaky and weak. A moment later, he wished he got to sleep too, because Willow pulled an enormous knife out of her bag. Its blade was a dull metal and was slightly curved, and it came to a very sharp point. The handle was made of old bone or maybe ivory, with symbols carved into it and what looked to him like rubies set in a line along one side.

“This knife was not easy to find,” Willow said. “And I have to return it pretty soon. So if you want me to do anything else with it, today’s the time.”

Spike shook his head firmly, and Xander had the impression that the two of them had had a discussion while he was on the burger run.

Willow nodded at Spike. Then she began to chant something and carefully stepped into the circle. The knife blade started to glow, sort of a sickly green color that Xander didn’t like at all. The light of it reflected onto Willow’s face, and she looked like a complete stranger to him. Xander swallowed and tried not to think of people being flayed alive. The room was suddenly flooded with such a strong smell of almonds that Xander gagged and nearly retched. Beside him, Spike made a small disgusted sound and his fingers dug painfully into Xander’s bicep, but Xander didn’t tell him to loosen his grip.

Willow crouched down and placed the tip of the knife against Angel’s chest, directly over his heart. She called out a phrase loudly three times and then plunged the knife into Angel’s flesh.

Angel screamed and his body arched on the ground. Spike howled and flung himself against Xander, and they clutched at each other. Xander’s vision became blurry and he realized he must be crying.

Willow stepped out of the circle, the now-bloody knife still held aloft. She said a few more words and then was silent; the almond smell disappeared immediately and the blade’s glow went out like a switch had been flicked. Angel lay sprawled awkwardly, silent and unmoving, a gaping hole just to the left of his sternum. He looked very dead.

“He’s not dust, he’s not dust, he’s not dust,” someone was saying. When Xander realized it was him, he snapped his mouth shut.

He used to hate Angel. There had been plenty of times he’d have gladly carved Angel’s heart out himself. He sent him to _hell_ once, for Chrissakes.

The three of them stood there for a thousand years and nothing happened. And then, right in front of their eyes, Angel’s wound melted away until his chest was as perfect as usual. “That’s a good sign,” Willow said.

Just as the words left her mouth, Angel’s body began to spasm and his hands clawed at the floor. His mouth opened. He took in a huge, gasping lungful of air and shot upwards to a seated position and his eyes snapped open.

“Liam?” Spike said in a tiny voice that didn’t sound at all like his usual self.

Angel breathed in and out a few more times. Xander could see the flush of color in his cheeks, a replacement for his usual pallor. “Spike,” he finally said.

And then things got sort of confused.

Willow dropped to the floor in a dead faint and the knife fell from her grip and clattered against the wood. Angel staggered to his feet.  Spike backed away until he was up against the wall, his eyes sparking from blue to gold, his chest rising and falling rapidly. And Xander stood in the middle of it all, unsure which of them to go to first.

Angel tottered to the kitchen and opened the door there that led to the back yard. He stepped outside and then just stood there in the sunshine, not burning, not even smoking, only squinting up at the blue sky.

Xander was finally able to move. He ran to Willow’s side. She was still unconscious, so he scooped her up and settled her on the couch as gently as he could. He used two fingers to lift the knife by its hilt. He grabbed a kitchen towel and put the knife on the counter atop the folded fabric. He glanced at Angel, who still hadn’t moved, and then went to Spike’s side. Spike’s eyes were still wild. “Are you all right?” Xander asked.

“He’s human, Xan. I can hear his heartbeat. He…he smells human.”

“Yeah. But are you okay?”

Spike visibly pulled himself together. “Yeah. Just a bit…shaken, is all.”

Xander kissed him on the cheek, softly, and hoped he was conveying to his vampire the love he felt for him. But he had to check on Willow. He walked over to the couch and knelt beside her, stroking one delicate hand.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and he gasped when he saw that the irises were now an odd violet. “Xander?” she said softly.

He blew out a huge sigh of relief. At least she knew him. “How are you, Will?”

“Oh, Xan, you’re _beautiful_! How could I have not noticed that before?” She reached over and stroked his face. “You have this glow, this aura…it’s like, like….”

“Like the aurora borealis,” Angel said from behind Xander, startling him. “In 1859 I was in England and the aurora was so spectacular humans could read by it in the middle of the night. That’s what your aura looks like, Xander.”

“Uh….” Xander had no idea how to respond to that.

“It’s how I knew to trust you, when I was scared of everyone else but Spike.”

“Oh. But…why?”

Willow sat upright. “It’s just you, I think.” She glanced over at Spike and the corners of her mouth drew down. “Oh, William…Spike.”

“What?” Spike wrapped his arms around himself defensively.

“You need to let yourself heal, too.” She glared at Xander. “You should be taking better care of your vampire, mister! He needs you!”

“But I have been…I mean….”

“He’s not as strong as he wants you to think. He needs more TLC, Xan.”

Spike hunched into himself and stared angrily at the floor.

She pushed Xander out of her way, gently but firmly, and stood. “Goddess, I’ve been so blind before now! I have to—Oh! Buffy!” She put a hand on Xander’s shoulder. “I have to go. Buffy needs help. Well, she will soon.” And she brushed past him towards the kitchen, where she gave the knife a cursory wipe on the towel before returning to the living room and dropping the blade into her bag. She hitched the bag back over her shoulder and gave Xander a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll be checking in on you,” she said. And then she winked at Angel, said a single word, and, without a magic twig or anything, disappeared.

The three of them looked around, but they were having trouble meeting one another’s gaze. Finally, when he couldn’t stand the awkwardness any longer, Xander spoke. “Look, Angel, I’m sorry—“

“It’s fine,” Angel said shortly. “Whatever you were gonna say…it’s fine. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

And then there was more of that awful silence.

Angel walked into the bedroom, and while he was in there, Spike and Xander carefully didn’t look at one another. Xander couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would improve the situation.

Angel came out wearing the clothing Xander had recently bought him. “Can I have the van? I’ll send you some cash later.”

Spike didn’t even look up. He stomped into the bedroom and returned a moment later with the keys in his hand. He tossed them to Angel, who caught them neatly. “Thanks,” Angel said. “I, uh….” He bit at his lip. “I gotta go.”

As soon as he was out the door, Spike collapsed. Xander ran to his side and held him tight. Spike wasn’t crying—hell, the poor vamp had cried enough lately, hadn’t he—but he was shaking like a man with a fever. “Let’s just go back to bed,” Xander said. “It’s still early, really, and I think I’ve had enough excitement for a while.”

Spike nodded and let himself be tugged away. Once in bed, they clung to each other and didn’t say another word.

 

***

 

Xander worried about Spike. When Xander was home, he lavished attention on the vampire, and they had sex a lot. Spike seemed okay, but Xander could see through the bravado pretty easily. Spike was struggling to keep it together, and there didn’t seem to be anything Xander could do about it. He was anxious a lot at work, half-expecting every day to come home and find a little pile of ash.

“How can I help?” he asked one evening several weeks after Angel left. “Just tell me what you want.”

Spike shook his head and worked his jaw. “You can’t…. It’s not that you’re not enough, whelp. You’re the only thing in this whole bloody world that’s worth anything to me. It’s only….”

Xander stroked his hair. “I know. You love Angel, too. I understand, Fang-face.”

“He never thought I was worthy of him when we were both monsters. Of course he wouldn’t want me now. I’d wager he’d be happy to have you, though, if you weren’t saddled with me.”

“Don’t be an idiot. You are too worthy and I’m not saddled. Now stop with the martyr schtick. Let’s go for a walk. Or…or I could go with you to that demon bar. I’d like to watch you fight.”

Spike perked up a little at that. “Yeah?”

Xander poked him in the shoulder. “Yeah, sexy demon guy. Let’s go.”

So they did go, and Xander felt oddly comfortable among all the various creatures at the bar, most of which gave him a wide berth when they realized who he was with. They had a few beers and when something with green skin and horns made a loud comment about filthy humans, Spike beat the crap out of it. It had been a very long time since Xander had seen Spike fight, and it was, he thought, a beautiful thing. Afterwards, Spike seemed to be in a pretty good mood, and he was so busy groping Xander as they drove home that Xander ended up pulling over onto a dark side street, where they had hot and uncomfortable sex in the cab of Xander’s truck.

And so life, or unlife, went on.

Buffy called to say that Willow was fine and she was helping them kick supernatural ass. Giles called, ostensibly to ask Spike about something-or-other to do with Victorian times, but really, Xander thought, just to chat. It was nice. Dawn called, mostly to gush over her new boyfriend and then to gush over how cute Xander and Spike were together.

Nobody had heard anything from Angel.

And then one night in early November, as Spike and Xander were curled up together on the couch, idly arguing over whether vampires should celebrate Thanksgiving, the doorbell rang. They looked at each other and shrugged. It was too late for salesmen or Jehovah’s Witnesses.

But when Xander opened the door, it was Angel standing there. His hair was short and plastered to his head from the rain. He looked like he’d put on a few pounds. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi. Come on in. Not that you need the invitation anymore.”

Angel nodded and entered the house. He nodded again at Spike’s startled face, then looked around the living room. “It looks good. Nice bookshelves.”

“Thanks. I made them myself,” Xander said.

“Did you come all this way to admire the furnishings?” Spike said. His face was twisted in a sneer, but Xander knew him well enough to see the hurt and fear that were underneath.

Angel looked down at the floor and shuffled his foot a little. “No. I sort of realized I’d never—“

“Tired of being alive already? Suddenly realized you’re going to get old?”

“Goddamnit, Spike, let me talk!”

Strangely enough, Angel’s angry words actually seemed to relax Spike a little bit. The vampire stood and leaned against the wall, as far from Angel as he could get.

Angel took a deep breath and let it out. “I wanted to thank you. Both of you. For…everything. Sticking by me. Saving me, I guess.”

“You’re welcome. Now you have that off your conscience and you can go on your merry way.”

“Jesus, Spike! You are so fucking annoying sometimes!” He turned to Xander. “How have you not staked him?”

Xander grinned. “Oddly enough, I kinda like having him around.”

“Yeah.” Angel scratched at the back of his neck. “Well, I don’t want to disturb you or anything….”

“Come on, formerly Deadboy. Why did you come here?”

“I wanted—“ Angel looked toward Spike.

“I get it. You guys go way back.” The next part hurt to say. “Look, if you want me to step aside, I’ll do it. But—“

“No!” Spike and Angel said in unison.

Spike stomped over and wrapped a possessive arm around Xander. “You are _not_ stepping aside, whelp.”

Xander tried to hide his sigh of relief.

Angel winced. “I missed you. _Both_ of you,” he said very quietly.

“We missed you. So stay.”

“But you guys have each other, and I’m just….”

“Just because we love each other doesn’t mean we can’t love you, too. Berk.” Spike rolled his eyes theatrically.

“But three guys…two men and a vampire…that’s not _normal_,” Angel said.

Xander clasped Angel’s damp shoulder. “I’ve said it before. Not normal here, never gonna be. None of knows how to do normal, and so what? Can’t we be happily eccentric?”

“All three of us?” said Angel.

“All three of us,” Xander confirmed.

And then they held each other so hard it was hard to tell where one body ended and the next began. To Xander, it felt safe and comfortable. It felt right, like something he’d been waiting for his whole life.

“The bed is going to be so bloody warm,” Spike said happily.

And then Xander started to laugh.

“What, whelp?”

“I was thinking about telling the guys at work. When Ballard’s not on the roof. The look on that dick Brady’s face!”

Spike snorted against Xander’s shoulder. “Perhaps we should host a holiday party.”

“You’re still evil, Spike,” said Xander.

“One of us has to be.”

And they stayed like that, arms around one another, chuckling softly. Family. And eventually the hug grew into something else and there were three mouths kissing and six hands groping and two faces flushing and three cocks hardening. All in all, Xander thought as they made their way clumsily to the bedroom, it added up very nicely. In his abnormal world, three halves made one damn wonderful whole.

 

_\---fin---_

 


End file.
